


Hydrangeas are Forever

by TealPiccata



Series: Fun-canon [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU, Accidentally having four kids in total, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Berkut and Rinea are only discussed in chapter 2, Exhaustion, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Making Out, Other characters are mentioned or alluded to, Parenthood, Reunions, Spoilers, being good parents to a child born out of wedlock, just kidding Berkut and Rinea get a chapter all to themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealPiccata/pseuds/TealPiccata
Summary: Love blossoms between professor and student, with the boons and curses that come with it.An out-of-canon take on a relationship between Marianne and Byleth, with headcanons and AU elements strewn about.(Originally started pre-release)





	1. Rapacity in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings of insignificancy aren’t much when someone serves as a guide into becoming better.

As the only child of Lord Edmund, Marianne already knew her fate was sealed: marry, bear an heir, and keep the Edmund name in good standing. There was little point in furthering alliances with the other students representing the Leicester Alliance when they hailed from merchant families and duchies, she thought; the territory she was set to inherit was so remote, practically insignificant compared to the rest. It wasn’t like they had much to offer to the bigger families to begin with.

 

There was always a chance that her father had sired a bastard sometime, somewhere, and thus invalidating her place as next-in-line; she was adopted, after all. Her father had raised her to devote her heart and soul to the Goddess, however, and she hoped he had at least been similarly devout.

* * *

 

Whenever there was a break from classes, she would go off to a far corner, the weeks since beginning her enrollment allowing her to slowly assemble a small flock of birds and rodents, feeding them bits of bread and cheese she snuck out of the mess hall. Tearing off a small bit of crust, she looked up to see a pigeon landing on the bench, cocking its head at her.

 

“You must think I’m sad, right?” she absently asked the congregation around her, pausing from their nibbling of scraps at the somber bluehead. “Truth be told, I don’t need to learn these things, I’ll just get pushed to the side once my usefulness is up.”

 

With the torn scrap of bread, she lowered her hand, a rat having approached and taking it from her fingers. It had finished half of it until its eyes caught something, causing it to run off, the other animals doing the same. Marianne couldn’t help but sigh.

 

“Good afternoon, Marianne,” her instructor greeted, settling onto the bench with her. “Can I ask what you’re doing here by yourself?” Silence answered his question.

 

Truth be told, she liked Byleth as a teacher. She found his lessons easy to follow and he listened to input on how certain students would like to further themselves, and out of class he was always giving advice or even helping out with extra-curricular activities. Really, he was worlds more approachable than even her peers.

 

Except she couldn’t see him as a teacher. The mercenary, the battle-hardened commander on the field, the man wielding a sword with power incomprehensible…

 

And Byleth sitting down next to her didn’t help matters. Him trying to reach out to her, caring for her, not out of obligation to protect the next head of a family, but as just another person on campus.

 

Goddess forbid, her heart ached for him.

 

The lump in her neck practically refused to go down, her nerves at their limit as she tried to answer. Was she blushing? Did she go pale? She mentally begged for a mirror so she could at least see her own face, to try to reshape her expression to how she liked and put up a guard.

 

“Are you alright, Marie?” he asked, breaking her out of her stupor.

 

“M-Marie?”

 

Byleth merely chuckled. “Oh, so that gets your attention.”

 

“... Why did you call me Marie?” she asked in a small voice, as her face attempted to remain apathetic, despite the chaotic whirlwind in her head.

 

“Huh?” He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward, his hands joining together. “Well, usually nicknames get people’s attention, whether they like it or not. I mean, as a mercenary, I work with too many people to know full names, so that’s how I get by.”

 

Silence washed over them as Marianne pondered the answer, softly nodding. “I don’t suppose the others’ have nicknames?”

 

“Oh-ho, yeah, Raphael is ‘Raffy’, Lysithea is ‘Thea’, Leonie is ‘Leon’,” he answered, counting off fingers. “Claude is just ‘Claude’ though. Kind of hard to make a nickname from a one-syllable name.”

 

“But you use these out of convenience?”

 

“... Yes.” His finger rubbed at an odd spot on one of his gauntlets. “Y’know, I was gonna call you Annie, but it didn’t feel right, like I would have had to ask if you were ‘okay’ all the time, although I suppose I’m doing just that right now.”

 

“And I appreciate it, professor,” she followed with, continuing to stare at the ground. “I would just rather be alone right now.”

 

“Alright,” he returned, rising up from his seat. “I’ll be in my office looking over the class’ work from today, then. You know where to find me if anything comes up.”

 

After the fifth footstep, her eyes trailed towards the walking mercenary, his coat softly waving with each step, a slight bounce in his sea green hair. She continued to look in his direction as the birds slowly returned, a good twenty minutes of relative silence before she picked up on her heartbeat.

 

Once more, it ached.

* * *

 

Their near-routine weekend bandit quelling took a turn for the interesting when Byleth suggested some of them switch to horseback. Minor issues arose in picking up the art of equestrianism, but the ones who made the change grew comfortable with their steeds nonetheless. Marianne’s usual training was in magic on foot, but he had suggested her switching to a lance, and despite initial complaints she soon found a groove in wielding it from her saddle. When it came time to attack, the combination of mount and weapon became second nature to her, and she zipped across the battlefield to take down foes giving even Raphael some trouble. Ignatz would later comment on that movement as ‘scary’.

 

The march back, however, had taken a turn for the worse as a storm unexpectedly enveloped the Golden Deer and their instructor. The horses were untroubled by the buffeting winds, and those on foot standing near the mounts’ sturdy frames, but the riders didn’t fare so well, with Marianne being swept off her saddle by a rogue gust, sending her down the muddy foothills. Byleth had immediately leapt after, his cloak becoming slick as he slid down the slope. By the time he had caught up with her, she was struggling to stand in a flooded river, her boots slipping on the stones. She managed to grab onto his hand, only to end up pulling him into the rapids.

 

By the time she came to, she found herself in a cave, a fire lit by the mouth, and Byleth, stripped down to just his trousers, sitting cross-legged as he rung out the water from his clothes. She watched the faintly-scarred skin, stretched over toned muscles and shoulder blades, flex as his hands twisted at parts of his dripping cloak, every little movement tugging his scapulae around. The sight of dripping water gave her a reminder that she was currently laying in a puddle from her soaked uniform, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed. Attempting to sit up, she flinched at the squelching noises of her wet clothes against stony ground, but the snap of attention from her professor caused her to freeze in place.

 

“Oh, you’re awake,” he simply said, returning his attention to his own clothes as he tried to dry them out. “The storm isn’t letting up soon, by the looks of it.”

 

Mumbling an affirmative, she scooted over towards the fire, raising her cold hands in front of the flame. “I…don’t suppose you expect me to strip myself too, do you?”

 

“It’s your prerogative.” His attention didn’t wane from the fabric in his hands. “You’ll catch something, though. I know how many layers go into those uniforms of yours.” His eyes soon wandered, catching a glimpse of Marianne pulling her coat from her shoulders, revealing the soaked, now almost-translucent, collared shirt underneath, his eyes immediately snapping away from the sight.

 

This didn’t go unnoticed by her, and so she scooted by him, a wet shoulder grazing against his. Her stone-grey eyes noticed his frame stiffening up, either from the cold touch or just proximity, and so she resumed peeling away wet fabric from itself.

 

“You’re...very close, Marie,” he lamely said, having completely stopped trying to ring out his cloak. Every single graze against her shoulder sent shivers through his arm and into his body as he attempted to unsubtly lean away.

 

That was when he noticed her chilling gaze, as a hand raised up to pull at the soggy cravat around her neck, previously stuffed under her uniform’s coat. The same eyes he saw as she tore down bandits of all shapes, the same eyes staring down enemy forces earlier that day. The same creature in front of him now making a show of trying to dry out, as if it was a challenge.

 

“This is better, is it not?” she said in a small voice, the barest hint of boldness permeating it, enough to pull the muscles in his neck taut. Then, an eye, peeking from a corner as her head cocked towards him, locked with his, freezing him in place.

 

She began peeling the wet shirt off of her frame, her gaze unbreaking until she laid it on the ground before the fire, her hands then moving to her waist to pull down the skirt of her uniform, raising her rear slightly to get it to her knees. Soon, she was left in a damp camisole, clinging to her brassiere, the shorts she wore underneath, and the underlying tights as she reached over to undo her boots.

 

Once her footwear was off, she tucked her knees close to her body, her arms tightly around her shins as she leaned against the mercenary, noting his tenseness. “Are you alright, professor?” she asked him in a mix of concern and teasing.

 

She felt his shoulder trying to loosen before he leaned forward, his hands dropped into his lap, her body following suit. “I...I know it’s cold, but this—isn’t this a bit much?”

 

“Whatever are you thinking?”

 

“It—it’s a bit personal, don’t you think? Too personal?”

 

She answered by leaning her entire weight against him, her blue hair nuzzling against his shoulder. “Perhaps…” she said, one hand grasping the other wrist. “Perhaps the Goddess conspired to put us here… I’ve prayed, you know… If we could ever be together…”

 

“You shouldn’t put your romances in the hands of higher powers, Marianne,” he retorted, finding some confidence in guiding her, even a little. “And I’m sure your Goddess wouldn’t advocate for staring me down as you stripped.”

 

Silence washed over the two, only broken up by the occasional crackle of the firewood. “Well, putting divinity aside, professor,” she said suddenly, “I really do want to be with you.”

 

She felt him swallow the lump in his throat, his face unchanging. “We’ll… We’ll discuss this when we return, Marianne,” he said after a long pause. “Right now, we just need to survive.”

 

When his hand shifted onto his thigh, she dropped one of hers onto it, lightly grabbing it; he made no protest.

* * *

 

When the storm subsided in the morning, the two reunited with the rest of the Golden Deer, continuing their march back to the academy. After parting with her stained uniform and changing into a clean set, she made her way to her professor’s office, caution racking her bones as she nervously made complete 180s whenever another student or faculty member crossed her path. Still, she found the door and slowly entered, finding Byleth polishing his armor at a table by a bookshelf. He peeked up briefly, seeing her, before quickly finishing the spot he had been buffing before placing the pauldron and rag back down. The two approached each other, making slow steps as each pondered how to start.

 

“Professor, I—” she started before he caught her into an embrace, his nose tucking against the crown of her head, the tip pressing against the braid. Her heart jumped into her throat, any thought she had regarding the state of the two completely wiped as her face grew flush.

 

“I… I think that should suffice,” he returned, pressing a kiss on her head. He felt her shoulders loosen as she returned the embrace, her head nuzzling against his chest, a happy sigh resonating from her rumbling through the two of them.

 

The silence, a comfortable thing they found in this moment, was only broken when Marianne spoke up. “I love you, Byleth.”

 

“And I, you, Marie,” he returned, letting himself melt against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is just to establish the relationship, that's it.
> 
> Oh yeah, the chapter title is a reference to another blue-related thing, if you can venture that.


	2. Images of Faraway Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne seeks answers for a recurring dream.

In the Edmund Estate, on the verge of sleep, Marianne lulled to herself, under fine cotton covers with nigh-uncountable thread count, surrounded by wooden pillars and a canopy over her head, patterned wallpaper barely in her sight’s periphery. Whether it was too cold, too warm, or just right didn’t matter, just that she needed to play to appearances in the morning. And so, by the repeat of a second verse of an old lullaby, she let her eyelids shut, her mind cutting to black before a familiar image faded in...

* * *

It was a familiar sight to Marianne: a child’s room, not unlike the one she grew up in at the Edmund Estate. Blues and greys were splashed around the room, joined by enough alabaster to keep the color composition light. The dream had come to her so many times that some nights her attention would wane and she would try to spot something she hadn’t the last time. It was always the same scene for her: she was in another woman’s place, kneeling, while an infant moved across from the carpet.

 

“Yes, yes, come to mama!” the woman said, watching the blue-headed child crawl their way over. Small hands frantically pawed against the floor, clothed knees barely keeping up. She brought a hand up to brush rogue hair behind an ear, grazing the braid crowning her head. When the babe reached her knees, she swooped it into her arms, blowing a smooch against the child’s belly and deriving a heartful giggle. “Oh, you’re so cute, so cute, you’ve got your papa’s eyes.”

 

As the babe relaxed in their mother’s arms, the latter simply looked at their burbling face. “Yes, yes, yes, mama and papa love you so, so much,” she cooed, her index finger tickling the child’s nose as they laughed once again. While she spoke with such happy notes, internally, Marianne was simply observing the scene again, this time noticing the hands, the way the veins had barely pushed against beautiful pale skin.

 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor, of both the passenger and the vessel, her head turning towards the sound as a man peeked in. The child gurgled once more, pawing its hands at the air in the visitor’s direction. A deep chuckle resounded throughout the room as he entered, his dark attire and hair contrasting against the room’s decorations.

 

“Papa’s home,” he answered, as the woman rose from her place. Marianne watched as the man dipped slightly, followed by the familiar press against the cheek, the sign of a simple peck. “How are you two?”

 

“We’re fine,” she said, a voice wholly unfamiliar to the sleeping woman taking a backseat in the exchange. “I miss you so much…”

 

“I know, I’m trying my best to come back as often as possible,” he answered. Marianne noticed her vessel’s shoulders tense up.

 

“W-well, she’s getting so big now, isn’t she?” she asked, trying to change the subject. Shoulders heaved the barest amount, bringing the infant in better view of the taller man.

 

“Yes, she is.” Marianne knew this part, how he had one arm behind his back. “Before I forget, I made this for you. I had some free time away from my… Well, I think you’d love this.” He brought out a pair of large fabric flowers, as white as the snow of mountain peaks. Over the years of seeing the dream again, Marianne would come to appreciate the craftsmanship displayed in the dream, the stitching precise and calculated.

 

“Y-you made these for me?” the woman asked, surprise permeating the question. “Oh, you shouldn’t have…”

 

“I know I’m not home as often as either of us would like, but I’m always thinking about you…” His hands moved to the sides of her head, brushing against hair slightly, as he mounted the fabric flowers, pushing the clips under the braid, and pulling away.

 

“How do I look?”

 

“Beautiful, so very beautiful,” he answered, his grey eyes meeting hers. “My sweet, sweet—”

* * *

Every time, without fail, before any names could be said, Marianne would be jolted out of her slumber, an audible gasp escaping her as she instinctively kicked her legs over the side of her bed. Trembling and breathing heavily, she grasped her hands against her head, where her braided crown would start. When the dreams began, she had thought it to be her future, her raising a child with this mystery man who wished himself to be home more often. As she grew up, as she developed further into womanhood, began the distinct disconnect, from the veins at the backs of her hands, to the woman’s different voice, and so she found herself haunted by the thought of just who these people in her dreams were.

* * *

Things hadn’t changed when she began her enrollment at the academy. She still had no answers; her father had been very evasive throughout the years regarding the topic, initially entertaining the idea that this was a sign of her life to come. Sometimes she’d wake up screaming, terrifying her roommate some nights and causing her to request taking a separate room to quarter in. By the time she experienced the recurring dream a fourth time at the academy, some of her classmates absently remarked the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, or comment that she had seen a ghost that morning.

 

And so she decided to seek help. Rumor had it that one of the professors was personally fulfilling the notes in the advice box, telling them the path to take and resulting in favorable outcomes. Marianne, to her better judgement, had attempted to find which instructor it was, to see who she could be direct with regarding this dream matter, and so she sat in the pews, pretending to pray so as to not attract the attention of the clergy or the other students. Through a cracked eyelid, she spotted hands pulling the folded notes from the opened box. Opening her eyes further, she spotted him: Byleth, in his robes and armor, unfolding each note and reading them. He then bent over the table, mulling over and writing a response before sorting them into a pile.

 

To think her boyfriend was giving out advice by proxy! And yet, the answer had been so obvious! She resumed her act, palms pressed together and eyes closed, until she heard the box close and the sound of his boots out and away from the hall of the church.

* * *

Knocking at the door of his office, Marianne heard a distinct tap, the sound of him straightening his papers against the desk. Soon, footsteps sounded out, becoming louder as he came closer to the door, and then the lock clicked open. Creaking the door slightly, his face in the gap, his eyebrows raised at the sight of his girlfriend in the hall. “Oh, come in,” he hurriedly said, opening it further, standing to the side to let her pass through the threshold before closing it behind them.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. To Marianne’s eyes, though, it wasn’t nearly as bad as her definition of “mess” would imply; a few books piled onto the table near the shelves, his armor heaped into the nearby leather sofa, and certainly his desk’s top had seen better days in organisation, but she had to presume he was holding himself up for the other nobles on campus. “Not often you come here without letting me know beforehand, Marie.”

 

“I… I wanted to talk,” she said, approaching the opposite side of his desk as he sat down.

 

“Oh. I assume this is serious?” he inquired, his hands coming together, fingers tenting on his desk.

 

“Yes, quite serious.”

 

A pregnant pause formed between them until Byleth spoke up. “Was it something I did?”

 

“Excuse me?” Marianne returned, eyes shooting wide, clearly caught off guard.

 

“I know I’m not exactly the ideal guy for someone of your standing,” he said, his eyes waning towards a suddenly-more interesting ornamental piece on his desk as he twiddled his thumbs. “I do tend to spend a lot of my free time with other people on campus rather than just us two, and so if it’s something pertaining to that, I—”

 

“Wait, Byleth, I—!” Marianne watched his eyes flick towards her, anticipating her response. Sucking in a breath, she brought her hands to her diaphragm, steeling her nerves. “I… I love you, you know this, but the matter I’ve come to speak to you about is… Well, it’s about a dream, per say.” She felt her lips purse after having said ‘dream’, discomfort bubbling deep within her, but this was the best chance she had at finally trying to put it to rest.

 

“I see…” Byleth rose from his seat, making his way to the bookshelves and placing the books on the nearby table back. “Sit here, I’m all ears.”

* * *

Despite the long pauses in trying to push herself past mental hurdles, she was finally able to tell Byleth everything about her dreams, from the woman whose eyes she was peering through, to the child in the scene, and finally the man coming home, plus distinct little details that she had picked up on from seeing the dream over and over again. Writing down notes, he would periodically ask her to clear up certain things, like whether small objects were relevant.

 

“And so these white flowers…”

 

“They were handmade by the man, at least he said he made them,” she followed, her hands in her lap, alternating how her fingers crossed. “He would reach to the sides of my, I mean, her head, and tuck them under a braid.” She brought a hand up and brushed her crown braid. “Like this, I think. I’ve placed similar things in it, it felt the same.”

 

“It is peculiar that they’d be flower ornaments, and fabric ones at that,” he said, his hand on his chin as he pondered the details. “Do you know of the continent Valentia?”

 

“Valentia?” She mulled over the name before her eyes widened in sudden surprise. “Yes! My father took me there once, when I was a girl! I remember, we were in the imperial capital of Chon’sin, and we had some amazing dumplings in the market… I’m sorry, but it’s been so long.”

 

“No, no, reminiscing is good, Marie.” He looked at his notes, using the back of a finger to tap down his jotted points. “There’s too much here to be a coincidence,” he said to himself, albeit a bit too loudly.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Byleth brought his hand back up, his thumb pressing into the corner of his mouth as the second knuckle of his index finger parted his lips ever so slightly. “Your father, Lord Edmund, is not your father by blood, is he?”

 

“No, no, it’s common knowledge that I’ve been adopted,” she answered, her eyes looking down at the gap between the leather cushions.

 

“Do you know if he’s been to Valentia outside of your trip?”

 

Marianne nodded. “He goes every few years, he says it’s for the sake of our territory, and he always brings back money and goods rare in Fódlan.”

 

Byleth wrote down more into his notepad. “And do you know if he’s been there before he took you in?”

 

“He says the Edmund household has done this since his grandfather, I’ve even asked the elders in a border village and they’ve confirmed that it’s tradition for our country.”

 

He nodded as he took note of that detail. “Marianne, I think I have enough circumstantial evidence to try to find who exactly the people in your dreams are,” he said, looking at his notes.

 

Marianne’s shoulders tensed up. “You do?!” she all but screamed, her arms suddenly straightening.

 

“I’ll have to reach out to a contact, they’re pretty good at finding people based off of nothing, so this much should give them a good head start,” he continued, putting the notepad on the table between them. “At the very least, if these people are real, then you can find your origin somewhere in Valentia.”

 

“How long would it take?”

 

“Around a month, but a few weeks if the sea proves to be favorable as they travel,” he answered, bringing his hand to his chin again.

 

“Thank you, Byleth,” she said in a small voice, her hands clasped together under her collar. “I… I think I can see my dreams differently now.”

 

And her slumber that night was calm.

* * *

 

When he called Marianne into his office the next month, she found it to be a mess of crates and parcels, watching him pry open wooden lids and cautiously lifting portraits, leaning them against their containers. He had began unstringing a parchment parcel when he caught wind of her presence. “Marie!” he called out to her from the far end of his office. “Find a seat, I’ll be with—” He had almost dropped the package in his hands. “—With you. Just let me organize this.”

 

Lowering herself onto the seats she had sat on the month before, she watched Byleth layer papers on top of one another, reordering them, and watched him take a hand to the large frame leaning against the opened crate until he decided to pick up two smaller frames from inside another box, placing them face-down precariously on top of the stacked papers. Bringing them to the table in front of her, he took the neighboring seat, catching his breath from having clearly scrambled with all the things present near his desk.

 

“Shall we begin?” he hurriedly said, pushing himself past deep breaths. She nodded, and so he leaned forward to grab a few pieces of paper from the pile. “Well, to start, I had reached out to your father sometime after I made contact with the people-hound, for lack of a better term.” He watched her eyes widen, but he continued. “He actually wrote back admitting to certain things, which will help to validate what my contact found in his own investigation.”

 

“So, father… He knew?” she asked, her eyebrows beginning to furrow in slight aggravation.

 

“For the record, he had been sworn to secrecy, the arrangement including the ruler of Valentia.” From the corner of his eye, he saw surprise take her face. “Let’s start with your father, Lord Berkut.” He took the first frame, lifting it up for her to see.

 

“It’s… It’s him,” she said, looking at the rough painting. The defined streaks of oil paint didn’t mean much as she saw the hair, the darker colors he wore, and, most of all, his grey eyes, like the ones she’d see in the mirror in the mornings. “That’s the man in my dreams.”

 

Byleth merely nodded, handing it to her to look at it more closely. A mirthful smile graced her features as she held it to her chest, as if to hug the parent she had long sought to know. “Would you like to see your mother?”

 

When he brought the frame up to show her, Marianne’s hands shot over her mouth, the other frame dropping into her lap. Despite the scratchy nature of the sketch, the features were well-defined, and aside from the hair cascading behind her shoulders, the smaller bangs, and the sketched outline of the flowers framing her head by her ears, it was almost a spitting resemblance between herself and the image of her mother. Moving her hands away to try to speak, she found herself unable to, her lips flapping as no words could come out.

 

Byleth found himself unable to contain a smile himself. “Looks just like you, huh?” He watched her nod, her eyes getting glossy as her shoulders quaked slightly, a telltale sign of a hiccup. “This is Lady Rinea, Lord Berkut’s fiancé.”

 

“Fiancé?” she asked, suddenly being broken out of her reverie. “They... They were never wed?”

 

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, his hands resting in his lap. “Combined with the tension in Rigel and the ensuing war, and the fact that they perished during said war…”

 

Despite the somber details, Marianne simply nodded. “I suppose it would’ve been too much to ask them to come back into my life, then.”

 

“Y’know, this does make you a princess,” Byleth remarked before his lips pursed and he made an audible gulp. “Although you won’t be in line for the throne anytime soon, King Alm’s legacy is… thorough, as one would put it.”

 

Placing the picture frame from her lap onto the table, she softly sighed. “I’ve no intention of leaving home to rule an unfamiliar land anytime soon,” she said, pulling her hands into her lap. “And I’ve no intention to start being called princess.” A coy smile formed on her lips. “Well, maybe you can call me that.”

 

“Anything for you, my princess,” he returned, putting the assembled evidence together. “I’ll pack these together and have a courier bring these up to your quarters so you can look these over in private. That large painting,” he said, pointing past his shoulder to the frame still by his desk, “is from Valentia, and will be going to your home first thing in the morning. You should take a look at it before it gets sent off.”

 

Moving back to his desk to wrap up the documents and frames, Marianne slowly made her way over, her hand resting against the corner of the large frame as she went around to view it, the sight consisting of Lady Rinea, with Lord Berkut’s hand reaching across her back and resting on the far shoulder, as a child with blue hair and stone-grey eyes sat in her lap. Closing her eyes, she mentally prayed.

* * *

“Look, I said if you don’t have the goods, Byleth, then don’t bother showing up until you have them.”

 

“Just accept the damn money, Su’Gai!”

 

“Nay, I firmly said that I would only be paid in sweets from Daska; otherwise, don’t even bother.”

 

“You already did the service, just take my damn money!”

 

“Sweets from Daska, or else—less you value your relationship to the girl.”

 

Byleth was taken aback. “You’re resorting to blackmail now?”

 

“Fie, if it means doing so to ensure I get what I want instead of a second-place prize,” Su’Gai said, crossing his arms and leaning against the stone wall. While his headband served to hide his eyebrows, his mouth formed a shit-eating grin. “Don’t come back here until you actually do have it, and I promise I won’t get leaky.”

 

Byleth sighed in exasperation, eyeing the opening of the alleyway. “Fine, I’ll get your damn sweets from Daska, but you had better not be butting in constantly.”

 

“I would not resort to such an underhanded tactic, I promise that much. So long as I have it before I’m put into the ground, or worse, then we’re good.”

 

“I’ll… I’ll go then.” He made a few steps before turning back to the freelancer. “Where will I find you, again?”

 

Pulling out a piece of licorice allsort, particularly a layered piece, and popping it into his mouth, his eyes looked at the mercenary. “Right here.”

* * *

 

“What happened to you?” Marianne asked out of worry, quickly catching up to the mercenary, his shoulders slightly slouched in annoyance. She had followed him on some minor errands under the pretense of seeing the town for herself, but in truth it was to get some time for themselves, particularly after Byleth himself brought it up the month before. The two had intended to simply relax, only for him to come back from a detour looking even more distressed.

 

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” he tried to reassure her, despite his twitching eye and posture as the two walked side by side.

 

“We’re supposed to be relaxing.”

 

“I know, I know.” He sighed, attempting to get his shoulders to loosen. “It’s just I’ve suddenly this nagging feeling in the back of my head. Like some… blood oath.”

 

After a few seconds of silence, Marianne scooted in front of him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a recurring headcanon ever since Marianne's face was seen in that she's actually Rinea's child, so that's what this chapter is.
> 
> Oh yeah, I'm going back to my old habit of blatantly referencing other Fire Emblem characters.
> 
> By the way if you rearrange Marianne, you get Ma Rinea N? Perhaps the N stands for Not canon!


	3. Lost Feelings of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Marianne interact with her peers leaves Byleth disillusioned with their relationship.

“...Um, I beg your pardon?”

 

Since beginning her enrollment at the Officer’s Academy, Marianne had ran into a variety of characters, ranging from interesting to purely bizarre: a physician, formerly an opera star that she had watched perform in a show while accompanying her father in her youth, a member of the Black Eagles constantly attempting to one-up any and everyone, a man from the Blue Lions that held an analytic eye for his next duel, and a redheaded shopkeeper who seems to have everything for sale. The Golden Deer weren’t exempt, having its fair share of varying personalities.

 

She had simply arrived to class a bit early, laying out her books and supplies at the table when suddenly the heir to House Gloucester had popped in front of her, spouting off excessively extravagant encomiums, seemingly in an attempt to woo her. To top it off, they were accompanied by flashy hand gestures, arched backs, and, strangest of all, leg stances, only serving to confuse her further. At the other side of the room was Leonie Pinelli, visibly struggling to hold in her laughter, fist practically pushed into her mouth, while Hilda gave the blue-haired girl a look of pity.

 

“Ah, to hear such a wondrous voice, one that can challenge the choirs of the gods! My lady, to have tea with you would be a godsend!”

 

“Y-yeah, oh, tea would be wonderful, alright!” Leonie barked in a mocking tone, finally bursting out in laughter; Lorenz was too caught up in his act to even notice.

 

Marianne, however, remained in her seat, baffled after being bombarded by the ostentatious display. “I-I’m sorry, I… I can’t—”

 

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be today! We can simply schedule it for another day…” The violethead brought a hand to his chin. “Let’s see… I’m doing choir practice tomorrow… Ah! Perhaps we can—”

 

A metal clang resounded throughout the room, causing everyone to flinch and turn towards the source of the sound: their professor with his gauntlet against the stone wall. The door had been closed already. Under the mercenary’s arm was a stack of written documents and illustrated plans. The last student to arrive, Raphael, had stopped dead in his tracks next to Byleth as all eyes were on the two of them. Softly sighing, Byleth began slowly walking around the desks, eyes following him.

 

“Lorenz, I’m an advocate for interacting with your peers,” he said in a stern tone, laying the pile onto the desk by the large windows. “While I’ve told you to keep your philandering to your free hours, sometimes your classmates are trying to brush up on the material before class starts.”

 

The young man simply nodded, clearly embarrassed by being called out first thing in the morning. Leonie let out a snort as she mouthed “idiot” in his direction, only to stiffen up as Byleth’s eyes moved to stare at her. Raphael, meanwhile, slowly prepared his supplies, awkwardly fitting himself into his seat.

 

While Byleth often maintained a stern, almost ambivalent attitude during his lectures, Marianne noticed the subtle changes to his usual demeanor: the slightly-knitted eyebrows, the pursed lips threatening to deepen into a frown, the faint squint to his eyes, the awkward curl to his fingers, and, most telling, the way he was almost stomping with each step as he walked around the room. Every scribing with chalk was now quick, almost violent, despite the unchanging of his handwriting. When he told questions to be answered, the squint would deepen ever so slightly, like a hawk seeing prey. Towards the end of the lecture, he had snapped the piece of chalk he was using, and she watched him mouth some curses before finishing what he was writing with the half still between his fingers.

 

“Any questions?” he asked with finality, scrutinizing the classroom. Claude raised his hand. “Yes, von Riegan?”

 

“So, assuming this ‘weapon triangle’ theory works as it does, then where do bows and staves fall into it?” he asked, as he slowly lowered his hand.

 

Byleth silently cursed himself again, the toe of his boot softly stomping barely visible behind the other. “I’ll have to apologize, it seems I’ve forgotten to cover it today. It’s a short section in your books, your assignment tonight will be to read that over, and I’ll answer questions about it first thing in the morning.” He looked up to see the house leader nod.

* * *

 

Dinner hadn’t been any better. From the other side of the mess hall, Lorenz was audibly lamenting his failures from that morning to a mostly apathetic Claude, who was trying to get some reading done ahead of time as he ate. Marianne looked down at her plate and away from the rambling flirt, an assembled meal of lightly seasoned trout and a side of sliced tomatoes with a dash of salt. She would usually eat with Byleth, the two often sitting in silence as they appreciated both the meal and one another’s presence, and so she waited.

 

“Hey, hey, if it isn’t the latest target of the purple creep!” Leonie shouted from behind her. Marianne turned her head to see the mercenary followed by Raphael and Hilda, the three each carrying a plate. “Oh, whoops, was that too blunt? I’m sorry.”

 

“Do you mind if we sit here? We were supposed to talk with Claude about the lesson, but, you know,” Hilda trailed off, unsubtly eyeing said man trying his best to ignore the casanova.

 

“I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before, I’m Raphael! I’m in your class! What's your name?” As he sat down, the silverware shook slightly, and his voice reverberated throughout the hall.

 

“You big oaf, you don’t actually know her name? She’s been in our class the whole time!” Leonie tried to elbow the larger man, but a combination of his sheer volume and the dish in her hands meant it didn’t amount to much.

 

Marianne leaned her head forward slightly to swallow the knot in her throat, to steel her nerves. “I… I’m Marianne. Marianne von Edmund.”

 

“Oh, von Edmund? The house in charge of that one small territory?” Answered by a small nod, Hilda pushed on. “I’ve heard it’s a beautiful place during the summer! Tell me, is it true?”

 

“Um, well, it’s… It’s home,” she lamely answered, being caught off-guard by the suddenness of the topic.

 

“Ah, so you keep your secrets,” Hilda returned, a wistful expression gracing her features. “I’d love to visit it someday to confirm those rumors.”

 

“I’ve heard word the food there is wonderful!”

 

As they continued to talk amongst themselves, she looked past the three to see Byleth walk into the hall with his dinner in-hand, only for him to look in her direction, his face then appearing abashed. As he turned away to leave for his office, he was stopped by Professor Cazagranda, who Marianne saw speaking to Byleth, only for him to excuse himself, waving a hand briefly in front of him, and moving past the stunned instructor.

 

“I must… I must apologize,” she said, as she stood up from her seat, taking her meal from the table. “I’ll be taking my meal in my quarters, but thank you for your companionship.”

 

“Oh, well, take care of yourself, then,” Hilda said with an apologetic tone.

* * *

 

It wasn’t often she found herself lying—instead of going to her room like she said, she had instead bee-lined it for Byleth’s office. As she approached, she saw the frosted glass on the door catching light from the inside. Knocking thrice, and then once after a pause, she stood calmly, plate in-hand. A couple of heavy footsteps and the click of the lock later, she was inside his office, having arrived as he was half-finished with dinner. Seating herself at the leather sofa by the bookshelves and placing her food down, she watched him make his way towards her.

 

The two sat in silence, anticipating what the other had to say, when Byleth turned towards her. “I’m sorry,” he started with, as he straightened his body and let out a clearly-restrained sigh.

 

“What for?”

 

“I don’t know, I guess about everything,” he continued with, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Byleth, I don’t understand.”

 

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “I guess… It’s with how I’m your teacher.” She motioned for him to continue. “I can’t do the things like those stories say romance should be, like flirting, or kissing you, or even touching you, and even in private like this, there’s always a chance that someone could intrude on us. Even talking to you, there’s only so much we can say to each other before it becomes obvious who we are together.”

 

“You know I don’t care about those things, Byleth,” she returned, leaning slightly towards him.

 

“I know, but just knowing that there’s limitations, it frustrates me. There’s not a lot of difference in our ages, but our positions—”

 

Laying a hand on his arm, Marianne tried to look at his eyes. “I suppose today didn’t help, right?” He nodded an affirmative. “Well, to tell you the truth, I noticed you were a bit frustrated during the lecture.”

 

“I was not frustrated,” he tried to deflect, but she wouldn’t have it.

 

“You were practically fuming, Byleth. Tell me, was it because of Lorenz?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “It was, wasn’t it? You didn’t like the sight of someone flirting with your girlfriend.”

 

She watched his cheeks become flushed, looking away abashedly. “I wasn’t jealous. I’m your boyfriend, you’re my girlfriend. That’s it. So what if someone else flirted with you?”

 

Slowly inching closer, he could feel her breath faintly press against his neck. “Well, I’m sure you wanted to let everyone know so they could back off,” she said, her face centimeters away from his, the two now staring each other down, her eyes gaining the same chill as when she was surveying the battlefield on her steed, despite the tinge of embarrassment he felt from the sudden intimacy.

 

“I did,” he admitted, softly pinching Marianne’s chin. “And it would’ve gone something like this.” Pulling her towards him, his lips softly pressed against hers, the slightest deepening of the kiss causing her to fall against his body. The initial long press turned into a shifting of their lips, the noise filling their ears as she hooked her arms around his neck, with his hands moving to her jawline to pull her closer. Their teeth threatened to grind together from their inexperience in the act, but neither party cared. When her weight yanking at his body became too much, he pushed her onto her back on the couch before pressing one more time then sitting back up, clearly out of breath. Despite the redness of his face, he finally made his first smile that day, his deep breathing unable to break it.

 

Marianne didn’t fare much better, exhausted and her cheeks like tomatoes, the creeping thoughts pertaining to the scandalous act she had participated in clashing with thoughts of just loving. Her braiding had loosened slightly, not that she cared much.

 

“I suppose that would be enough,” she remarked, her breathing still heavy. “I… I liked that.”

 

“Really? It seemed like you were the expert there,” he snided, despite the sappy smile on his face.

 

“What? I-I have never—” She simply fumed as she scrambled upright, her hands pulled close to her diaphragm as she looked away.

 

“Hey, wait,” he said reaching towards her, only for her to suddenly turn her shoulders. “I was—I was joking.”

 

She responded with a pout, only looking at him from the corner of her eye. “Let’s… Let’s just eat.”

* * *

 

The door to Byleth’s office closed again, not making a noise, as Lysithea turned away from it, her face a bright red. Having intended to clear up any questions about the assigned reading before grabbing dinner, she had instead opened the door to her instructor and classmate sucking face, the mess of sky-blue and sea-green heads of hair mashing against one another as she slowly backed away, her young heart and mind unable to comprehend the almost-violent act of affection she walked in on. Pressing her back against the wall and sliding down until she was sitting, she let her arm cross under her ribs and under the opposite elbow, a closed hand pressed against her mouth, her eyes still wide, as she attempted to rationalize exactly what she saw.

 

‘Perhaps that’s just how they greet people in certain places,’ one thought amongst many ridiculous ones she could imagine. Each one she simply shook her head at.

 

“Excuse me, Lysithea?”

 

“Huh?” Broken out of her stupor, she saw Claude von Riegan before her, a book tucked under his arm. “Oh, house leader, what’s going on?”

 

“Well, I finished the assigned reading ahead of time, so I came to ask questions now before heading to bed,” he answered, reaching for the door knob when Lysithea shot her hand in front of it.

 

“Oh, the professor is… He’s going to retire for the night himself. Soon,” she said in a hurried tone. “I came to do the same as you, actually.”

 

“Perhaps we can share our thoughts together, then? I would have done it with the others during dinner, but I was preoccupied.”

 

“Uh, yeah, we should do that.” She stood up, dusting off her skirt. “Let’s discuss. Discuss the reading. Yeah.”

 

Claude’s eyebrows knitted in concern, but he otherwise paid it no mind and started walking away from the door, the magical prodigy following suit. “Alright, well, regarding staves…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my mind wanders towards ideas away from the ideas I originally wanted to write. Definitely a more romantic one after the previous lore-heavy one, though!
> 
> I'm chalking up any aggressive behavior on Marianne's part to Berkut blood.
> 
> Also, fixed Chapter 1's Golden Deer mentions, previously it said "Golden Eagle".


	4. On the Isle of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth doesn’t take care of himself well enough and almost passes out.

“And… And… This concludes our… Our overview of high risk, high reward tactics in the… The history of warfare.”

 

Marianne’s eyes looked around the room, watching her peers’ faces express varying degrees of concern. It was common knowledge that their professor often put others before him; whether it was making sure someone didn’t get hurt on the battlefield, having everyone fed before the end of the day, or retrieving an item thought to be lost, he was always going out of his way to help. The lengths he would go, however, culminated in the man now walking back and forth in front of the chalkboard with slow, heavy steps, each movement leaving him short of breath, and making him prone to mistakes, leading to some of the students having to help clear things up for the others.

 

“Any questions?” he asked slowly, then sucking in a deep breath as he braced himself against his desk.

 

Ignatz raised his arm with slight apprehension, and Byleth called on him. “Um, in regards to sometimes using an unarmored ally to guard an armored one from magical attacks, does there need to be distance between the two still?”

 

“Uh, yes, that’s… That’s a very good question,” he returned, his breathing heavy as he thought it over. “Um, so long as the unarmored one has… Has built up enough magical resistance…” Closing his eyes and pursing his lips, he swallowed the lump in his throat, the arm bracing him on the table shaking ever so slightly. “The… T-the armored unit… It—”

 

With a crash and a clang, Byleth had collapsed onto the floor! His arm had swept off a stack of papers to the side, sending the documents flying as the students jumped up from their seats. Taking initiative, Claude leaped over his desk and almost sprinted, tucking his legs into a slide as he began pressing fingers against the neck of the crumpled heap of teacher on the floor.

 

“Lorenz!” he shouted at the casanova, the latter’s eyes wide in shock, now magnified by being called upon. “Hurry and get Professor Cazagranda!” Watching the violet-headed man book it out of the classroom, he turned his attention to everyone else. “Raphael, start stretching; we might need your assistance in moving the professor.”

 

Marianne jogged around her burly classmate, approaching her house leader. “Um… I have some medical experience, if it can be of use,” she suggested, trying to hold herself together as she saw Byleth, his breathing troubled despite Claude holding his head and shoulders up.

 

“I don’t know what you’re fully capable of, but for now just stay with him,” he ordered, moving away from him and motioning her to crouch down and support the mercenary, catching heavy shoulders in her arms. “Do what you have to do, I’ll get everyone else to act, too.”

 

As the Riegan heir ordered Leonie and Ignatz to run out, Marianne looked down at her troubled lover, his eyes almost-completely lidded as his chest heaved. Letting his upper body rest on her lap, the top of his head almost jabbing into her stomach, she brought her hands against his cheeks, as she let the tips of her pinky fingers stroke his jawline. “Byleth, are you still there?” she asked, watching to see if he was still conscious, a low mumble answering her. “Stay with me, okay? We’re getting you help.”

 

A groaned resounded from his mouth, a hand slowly raising and flopping onto his shoulder. His eyes screwed shut from the strain, but once she took his hand into hers, his face relaxed slightly.

 

“Alright, Professor—oh my!” Manuela exclaimed, her hands shooting over her mouth as she saw the mercenary’s pale face. Lorenz caught up to the physician, clearly out of breath as he leaned against the door frame. “At first, I was quite displeased with one of your own interrupting my lecture, but I can see the situation is quite dire!” The leader of the Golden Deer simply nodded. “Are you aware of his affliction?”

 

“It looks like exhaustion to me. I’ve already sent two of us to retrieve a stretcher so we can move him.”

 

Professor Cazagranda nodded in approval, then began walking towards the invalid. “Miss von Edmund,” she greeted, kneeling down to better see the man. “How is he?”

 

“He’s still conscious, I think, I’ve been trying to speak to him.”

 

“Very good, so you remember what I’ve taught you.” Leonie and Ignatz ran back into the classroom, the stretcher haphazardly carried between them. “Alright, they’re here. Let’s move him!”

 

Tucking her arms under Byleth’s legs, and with Raphael moving the armored upper body, Manuela moved him from the floor and onto the fabric of the stretcher. Claude and Raphael took to the ends, raising it off the floor as they moved past a heaving Pinelli. “It’ll be easier on everyone if we just take him to his quarters instead of the medical wing, complications from exhaustion just needs rest to remedy it,” she guided, the two young men following her. “I’ll have to make my apologies to you two now, however.”

 

“What for?” Raphael asked, his eyebrow quirking out of confusion.

 

“His quarters are up those stairs.”

* * *

 

The first thing Byleth noticed as he woke was where he was—a bed. Not a cot in the medical wing that smelled of tonics and other chemicals, but his bedroom. The bedsheet had been pulled up to his neck, falling down as he tried to sit up, when sore back muscles let themselves be known, causing him to flop against the bed. His breathing became heavy from the strain as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

A knock came at his door, but it opened before he could answer, with Marianne making her way in, a tray in her hands. Her eyes widened at the awake man before she resumed moving closer, placing the tray on the nightstand.

 

“... How long was I out?” he said in a low voice, not wanting to strain himself any more.

 

After filling a cup with tea, she sat down in the chair—which he noted should be in the main room of his quarters. “You were out for… an hour or so.”

 

“Really? And you were here the whole time?”

 

“Miss Cazagranda asked me to watch over you.”

 

Byleth’s expression became perturbed upon hearing this. “You… Shouldn’t sacrifice your time in class for me, Marie.”

 

Marianne brought the teacup to his lips, slowly raising it so he could sip. “I’m actually supposed to have her class right now, so this is for a grade.” She placed the cup back onto its saucer on the tray. “And it’s just an elective, it’s not mandatory for me to be in the lectures at all.”

 

“I see…” The two sat in silence until he tried to reach for the teacup, only to be stopped and have it handed to him. “Thanks.”

 

“Byleth, you’re wearing yourself out,” she said, her tone somewhat critical. “You can’t keep this up.”

 

“It’s my job, Marie, I have to make sure you’re all alright.”

 

As her eyebrows furrowed, she can feel something bubbling up inside her, but she brushed it off. “How can you do that when you’re not alright?”

 

“Why does it matter?” he asked, passing her the emptied teacup.

 

“Because you matter, Byleth.”

 

He sank against the bed, looking up at the ceiling again. “Do I, though?”

 

Marianne felt the fingers of her free hand clench tighter, and her jaw clenched slightly. “Yes, you do. You do matter.”

 

“No, I don—” The sound of shattered ceramic filled the room as his head snapped towards Marianne, strained muscle be damned, her hand clenched into a tight ball as blood seeped its way out from between her fingers and palm, dripping onto the mess of ceramic shards under her. “Marie—”

 

“Don’t call me that,” she said, in a hushed voice, her grey eyes dulling as she looked at her injured hand, flexing her fingers and seemingly not minding the lacerations. Turning away without even looking at him, she walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

* * *

 

Evening had filled the sky when Marianne came back to bring Byleth dinner, her hand now thinly bandaged. Taking her seat again, she remained silent, refusing to look at him, her eyes containing a hint of bitterness.

 

As he slowly ate, he tried to look at the blue-haired girl, who continued to avert her gaze, and so he turned his attention back to his meal. A portion of roasted chicken with a lemon-butter sauce and a side of grilled asparagus—all delicious in theory, but its taste seemed too bland with how glum the room’s atmosphere was. Laying the fork and knife down to the side of the plate, he stared at the food, pondering.

 

“I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” Marianne finally said, still looking off to her side when Byleth turned to look at her. “It was foolish of me—it didn’t change how you felt, I’ve hurt myself, and… I broke a teacup.”

 

“Marie—” Seeing her flinch at the nickname, he mentally reprimanded himself. “Marianne, can I see you, please?” When she didn’t respond, he moved to place the tray onto the nightstand and kicked his legs over the side of the bed to better face her. “Marianne, after you walked out, I did start doubting myself.” Catching her peek at him from the corner of her eye, he continued. “And, y’know, we both hurt ourselves trying to care for who we love.”

 

“We did, didn’t we,” she returned.

 

“Then, can I make a promise to you?” he asked, answered by a soft nod. “I swear, if I find myself falling from this point forward, lest you begin to worry yourself, that I will come to you.”

 

Marianne stood up, her hands held in front of her waist. “Then, I will catch you, and mend your broken wings.”

 

Byleth also stood up from his place at the edge of the bed. “Then, can I start calling you Marie ag—” His head tilted down, seeing Marianne pushing his dinner tray into his chest.

 

Although her eyes remained stern, a smile slowly returned to grace her features. “Eat your dinner first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just wanted to get a sickfic or something close to one in.
> 
> A bit more dramatic, this one.
> 
> Again, the Berkut blood coming out (literally).


	5. In Another Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth adjusts to becoming Steward of House Edmund.

“This is a bit… showy.”

 

Standing in front of a full-body mirror, the former mercenary stared at his reflection, trading out his ebony armor, coral trim, and charcoal fabric for blue robes, gold accents, and taupe plates. The tailors and blacksmith mostly stuck to what he had previously worn as a template, but at his personal request added a pair of gauntlets and another panel to the armor framing his abdomen.

 

It wasn’t the gold contrasting with the blues that made him quirk an eyebrow at his reflection, rather the addition of cream-white fur around his neck and wrists. Edmund territory did get cold, being situated more north in Fódlan, but the way it peeked from his collar and puffed out between his gauntlets and vambraces irked him. Perhaps if it had been black…

 

And there was the cape. The cloak he often wore had been recreated in the new colors except for the length coming off of his back, terminating right at his shoulders. Instead, he received an extra cloak, similarly sapphire-esque in shade to the rest of his current ensemble, with a familiar metallic sheen down its edge. The tailors had done a good job, he thought, as it accounted for the pauldrons they were sitting over, still terminating at the same length his old cloak did. Pulling up a corner, he slowly spun, watching the fabric flow ever so slightly, only to stop as his eyes locked with the person in the threshold of the fitting room, his hand releasing the cape and letting it float back down.

 

“You look wonderful,” Marianne said, her arms held in front of her waist. The sunlight made its way through the frosted glass, lighting her features as she slowly walked towards him, the slight sway at her hips causing him to turn his head away abashedly.

 

“I feel ridiculous.” Byleth’s arm reached over his body, his thumb crooking itself into the puffy cuff, adjusting it slightly. “I don’t see why I can’t wear my old clothes.”

 

“Well, you need to represent House Edmund,” she answered. Her hands reached up to his neck, tugging the edges of his collar; he swore she was just trying to get more of the fur to show. “Is it not good?”   
  


His hand clenched at the fabric, tugging it up between their bodies. “The cape and the fur is a bit much, don’t you think?”

 

Understanding crossed her face as she brought a hand down to caress the fabric in his hand. “I thought it would look good on you, and perhaps I wanted to shape the Edmund legacy with my blood in mind. If you don’t like it—”

 

“No, Marie, it’s just something I’m not used to,” he interjected, slowly unclenching his hand so he could grab ahold of hers. “Although, now that you mentioned blood… I kinda look like him, don’t you think?”

 

“Perhaps that’s where the inspiration came from. Your hair is much brighter than his, though.”

 

Marianne watched Byleth move towards another table, taking the familiar black leather belts from his mercenary days and pulling them around the metal banding around his middle, his covered hands not interfering with securing his dagger against his person. His head peered down, patting some parts of his body while absently dusting off others before returning his attention, now assuming a slightly awkward stance.

 

“So, uh, what would you have your steward do, Lady Edmund?” he said, entering a clumsy bow.

 

A giggle bubbled out from her as she took his hands, lightly tugging him to follow. “Enough of that, we have a long day ahead of us.”

* * *

 

“Wah—papa looks like grampa!”

 

Lilith bounced around Byleth as her hands pulled at the curtain falling down his shoulders. At one point she hid between his cape and his back, the illusion broken by the flower-print headband and her braid peeking out from the side of his leg if one disregarded the fabric bunched up over her. Marianne returned a look of amusement towards the defeated man as his clothes were yanked around by the child.

 

And then she started climbing up his cape.

 

“Lily, your father’s clothes are very important, don’t ruin them,” she lightly scolded, lowering the five year old’s feet to the ground.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, papa,” she said as she looked up at the taller man, her foot meekly kicking at the ground as she shrunk in on herself.

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he returned, kneeling down to see her eye-to-eye. Watching her gaze hesitate to meet his, he raised his hand, softly patting at her blue hair. Initially flinching at the first touch, her ultramarine orbs finally met his matching pair. 

 

“You’re not mad?” she said as she criss-crossed her fingers, somewhat unsure.

 

“You know I can’t be mad at you.” He flashed a reassuring smile, and, despite her uncertainty as she briefly glanced at her mother, she managed a smile in return.

  
“Can I still hide behind your cape?”

 

Marianne giggled into her hand as she approached Lilith from behind, nudging her shoulder slightly. “Come on, you two, we really need to get going. Lily, didn’t you want to see the sweets merchant in town?”

 

“Wait, we are?!”

 

“It was your idea,” Byleth said, swooping her up into his arms as he rose from his place, ignoring her bubbly laughter. Letting her lean against his body for support, she started belting off the kinds of candies she wanted to eat, from licorice allsorts to bonbons.

 

“A-And also those belts, the ones that make your mouth pucker,” she continued, briefly tightening her lips to demonstrate. “Like this!”

 

“Well I don’t know about belts, my dad only gave me chocolate,” he returned, hefting her up slightly as they clambered into the carriage. “What about you, Marie?”

 

“I was never much into candy growing up,” she answered, setting herself into the seat as Lily was plopped down next to her.

 

“You don’t like candy? But you give me candy all the time!”

 

“I didn’t say I hated candy, Lily.” She watched Byleth close the door, locking it before settling across from the two blue-heads. “Although, Lysithea has been sending me cherry cordials, which I’ve found myself enjoying in my office.”

 

“You shouldn’t skip meals, Marie,” he quipped, leaning back and crossing his arms.

 

“Byleth, you and I both know we keep one another accountable on these sorts of things, and I only eat them sparingly.”

 

“The liqueur filling certainly helps to steel nerves.”

 

“Oh, shush, you.”

* * *

 

Evening began to creep the horizon by the time they had returned to the estate, as Byleth carried a slumbering Lily. Despite her parents repeatedly telling her to save her treats for at least until they got back, she had managed to sneak in a sour tape and spent the trip back almost bouncing off the walls of the carriage, the two resorting to tickling her to tire her out.

  
“For the record, I was never like this as a kid,” he whispered towards Marianne who was walking next to him. Peeking at her from the corner of his eye he saw her cerulean hair cascaded down her shoulders; despite having been braided earlier that day, she opted to let it down when the effort of wrangling Lilith began to undo her hair. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen your hair like that.”

 

“You see it like this when you wake up,” she jested, cocking her head ever so slightly to better show her face. “You don’t hear me talking about how you still look the same, do you?”

 

“You’re always talking about my hair, though. Let me have this.”

 

“Well, in my defense, when hair lightens it goes grey or white, not mint.”

 

“Who knows, maybe both of our heads have already greyed.”

 

A light laugh answered him as she pointed her head forward, looking down the hallway. “Not even married, and you make it sound like we’re already growing old together. Tell me, when are you going to propose to me?”

 

“Well, taking up this position has certainly put any plans on hold, and everyone thinks we’re married anyways.”

 

“Not our neighboring territories’ leaders, you’re just the steward.”

 

It was his turn to laugh. “Well, maybe it just means something else in the Edmund dukedom now.” He watched Marianne stop to open the door to Lily’s bedroom, and soon he had plopped the tired girl onto her bed, her hands already pulling at her blanket. “Hey, at least let your mother take off your shoes,” he said, already pulling the band from the top of her head and the fabric holding her braid together. A murmur answered him.

 

“It’s fine, I got it,” she answered, dropping them sole-side down on the floor. “Good night, Lily.”

  
  
“Good night,” Byleth followed, letting his fingers comb through her hair. Another muffled voice rumbled out from between blanket and pillow.

* * *

 

“Do you still feel ridiculous?”

 

Byleth’s head snapped towards Marianne, his eyes blinking at surprise until he looked down at his attire again. “I’m still not used to wearing something as extravagant with all this gold, but if it’s for the sake of my standing...”

 

“You know I will always treat you as my equal, nothing less, no matter what you wear."

  
“No, I get that, but,” he tucked his finger under her chin, “Earlier, you said we’re already growing old together, and I want to be sure we’re already there, and so if I have to wear your colors… Then it’s worth it in the end to me.”

  
“You don’t have to wear these to keep up with me Byleth.”

  
“Well, maybe I want to wear them because I want everyone to know I belong to you.”

 

“Then it can go the other way, too,” she returned, pulling his hand to her cheek. “I mean, we could, if I wasn’t representing the Edmund name—”

  
“I get your point.” In the corner of his eye, he caught the portrait of Lord Berkut and Lady Rinea, the same one he had sent home more than five years ago. “What do you think would be their thoughts about me, Marie?”

 

“I think father would not like you,” she answered, also looking at the painting. “Mother, though, I think she would appreciate what you’ve done for me. She was said to be a gentle soul.”

 

“I see.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

He held his chin in thought. “Well, I think your father would try to kill me considering we already have a child.”

 

“Oh,” she returned, concern tinting her voice. “But, my mother?”

 

“Can’t say I would know, I suppose I’ll just have to agree with you.” His head cocked to look at her, the movement catching her attention and causing her eyes to lock with his. “I would love to meet them.”

 

“I would, too.” Slowly raising her hand, she watched his gauntlet overwhelm it, his slightly cold armored fingers wrapping around bare skin. Her soft smile grew mirthful, and he returned it, only for his face to fault. “Something wrong, Byleth?”

 

“I just realized that sweets merchant was from Duscur,” he said sheepishly, his free hand reaching back to scratch behind his ear. “We’ll have to make a trip to the monastery soon.”

 

“Oh no, is it because of that ‘blood oath’ thing?”

 

“Yeah, the only reason why that’s there,” he answered, briefly pointing at the framed painting.

  
“Well, we don’t have to go soon-soon, I did place an order of a case of cherry cordials with the merchant, it should arrive at the end of the month.”

 

“Y-you did?”

 

“Admittedly, I wanted to see how they stood up to Lysithea’s, but clearly there’s a more dire set of circumstances at hand…” she said with slight gravitas, only to flash Byleth a teasing smile.

 

“I’m serious, he actually wanted sweets.”

 

“The more you talk about him, the less I believe it. What kind of man only accepts candy as payment?”

  
  
“Look, mercenaries are strange folk, alright?”

 

“Oh, I’m more than aware of that, one’s the father of my child,” she quickly followed, her eyes glancing off to the side.

 

His jaw dropped at the offense, his cheeks flaring red. “... Are you serious right now?”

 

“Serious about what?” she returned, feigning ignorance.

 

Byleth merely sighed in defeat. “Okay... You’re just teasing me. Get it over with”

 

“Perhaps I am teasing you, or maybe your strangeness is what I love about you.” With his hand still grasping hers, she tugged at his arm, pulling him slightly. “It’s already very late, we should be heading to bed already.”

 

“You just want to tear this off of me, don’t you?”

 

Marianne whipped her head back towards him, her cheshire grin turning warmer. “I’ll leave that to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last chapter to have started pre-release, future chapters will be influenced by canon details but will still remain with many of the AU elements.
> 
> Also, while the previous chapters could be seen in chronological order, it's really meant more as an anthology, and I am thinking of going back to academy days for the next chapter.


	6. Unguarded and Unmasked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following tragedy, Marianne comforts Byleth. (Game Spoilers Start Here)

Grey skies found themselves over Fódlan, the water pelting against stone and dirt as everyone rushed indoors, their moods deflated. It was unexpected, the skies clear that morning, and yet the sudden downpour wasn’t what brought everyone’s spirits down. No, the clergy, the soldiers, the academy’s faculty, students, and the other residents found themselves shaken from the sudden news: former captain of the Knights of Seiros, the strongest knight who ever lived, Jeralt Eisner, was dead. His body had been brought in by a stone-faced Byleth, and while he was stopped by the guards under reasonable suspicions, Alois demanded he be allowed onto the grounds, helping to carry the body to the crypt. After discovering the hidden journal and Rhea’s confession of what had happened to his mother, the mercenary soon found himself in a chair next to his father’s body, a thin sheet laid over from head to toe. His mind was a whirlwind in that moment: an infernal rage towards his father’s killer, an overwhelming sorrow from the loss, and just… confusion… regarding his origins, all feelings he had never experienced in such magnitude before.

  
Regardless, he dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as the tears resumed, his hiccups and sobs echoing down the stone walls.

* * *

 

“My master’s… dead,” Leonie said absently, nursing a glass of iced water, the condensation pooling a ring around its bottom. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

 

“Everyone dies one day,” Lysithea returned, tenting the mercenary’s untied coat over her shoulders like a blanket. “Still, the professor doesn’t deserve having his only family taken away like that.”

  
Raphael couldn’t find his appetite, his plate untouched. “I know what he’s going through.”

 

The news had left Lorenz speechless; if he had a voice, he would’ve called Jeralt’s killer a coward, one that deserved the worst things, and perhaps incite everyone else to act; instead, he leaned against a pillar, a hand held over his chin as if to restrain himself. Hilda, too, remained uncharacteristically quiet, the bright and peppy girl seemingly losing her color as she looked at her thumbs. Ignatz had retired to his room early, his eyebrows knitted in dejection when he left.

 

Claude knocked at the room’s door frame, leaning against the threshold as the others turned their heads to look at him. “Are you guys alright?” he asked, watching his peers look toward one another for a few long moments, as if afraid to speak.

 

“How is he?” Hilda finally asked, her voice breaking the silence.

  
Claude shook his head, pushing off to seat himself at the table. “Not well, from what I saw. He was just sitting there with some book in his lap when I started walking back. Where’s Ignatz?”

  
“He, um, left for his room. I think it’s all been too much for him,” Leonie answered, taking a tentative sip. “Can I go back to my room, too? Captain Jeralt meant a lot to me, but I can’t butt in while the professor’s there. I just need to get away.”

  
“Go right ahead,” he returned, watching her leave the glass behind as she pulled the coat closer to her body. “Anyone else?” Everyone again exchanged looks, no words as the house leader softly sighed. “Truth be told, I’m a bit upset myself. I don’t even know what to do in a situation like this.”

 

Looking up to see how those remaining were faring, his eyebrow quirked, his eyes quickly scanning the room a few times.

 

“Has anyone seen Marianne?”

* * *

 

Her mind kept protesting against her as she continued down the steps, her hands tucked over opposite elbows as she kept herself small, unsure of her decision to see Byleth. She understood letting him mourn, but seeing the front he put up as he wandered the hallways earlier—it was an all too familiar sight. Images of his weakly-composed steely expression were brushed away as her foot pressed against the floor into the crypt, its cold air seeping through her dark uniform. Pushing herself forward, she eyed the turns until she came across a doorway, candlelight flickering from it. She silently cursed the clack of the heels of her boots as her approach into the tighter hallway echoed, the sound filling her mind unasked, forcing her to tiptoe.

 

Her head peeked into the chamber, watching the mercenary palm his eyes, wiping away huge streaks of tears as a few rogue hiccups wracked his shoulders. Sure, she’d seen him upset, mostly dropped eyebrows, pursed lips, or both, but to see him like this, with a defined grimace and red eyes…

 

Then she noticed the leather-bound tome in his lap, as Byleth peered at it, his thumb following the lines of some words, too miniscule for her to read from where she spied. She watched the finger slow down towards the end of the block of written text before he rested his arms on the table the body was laid on, pressing his face into the cloth as his shoulders shook.

 

Attempting to sneak in, she forgot about herself having tiptoed from the hallway as a single clack reverberated in the chamber, startling the grieving man, his face looking more fearful than she felt hers was. She raised her hands in front of her apologetically, only for him to turn his head away, closing the book in his lap and pulling it close to his chest. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered in his direction, only answered by a single hiccough followed by a silence, his mouth quivering from restraint. Backing away slowly, she waited until she was out of his sight before running, her heart ready to burst out of her chest.

* * *

 

Evening had settled over Garegg Mach when Marianne bumped into Byleth, his hair a mess, tear stains down his cheeks, and the book tucked under his arm, the opposite one crossing his chest to secure the tome in his hold. Despite this, he maintained the same neutral expression he usually held.

  
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he simply said as he tried to make his way around her, stopping when she attempted to walk next to him. “I want to be alone, Marie—”

 

“I want to talk,” she pleaded, her eyes locked onto his. His expression overall didn’t change, although she caught onto a small nuance—the corner of his eye pulling slightly.

  
Byleth’s eyes flicked from side to side, seeing the intersecting hallways were empty. “This way,” he finally said, nudging his head in a direction.

* * *

 

Marianne’s eyes ran over everything in the captain’s quarters, formerly Jeralt’s, from the large leather meeting sofas sandwiched around the low table to the armor displayed by the large oak desk. To her surprise, a pair of red hibiscus flowers sat on the desk, their underlying leaves bending ever so slightly from their size.

 

She turned to look at the mercenary, who was slumped against one of the armrests of the massive couch, the book—a journal, he told her—tossed onto the table. “... You’re probably gonna tell me that everything will be okay like everyone else, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice raspy from grieving.

 

“I can’t tell you if anything will be okay,” she returned as she approached him, her hands in front of her waist. “But, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to ask how you feel.”

 

A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he wriggled in his seat. “All I know is that I feel like a mess, Marie. Everything that my life was or I thought it was just doesn’t make sense anymore.” More tears began trailing down his face as his palms moved up to swipe them away. “W-why am I crying this much…?”

 

“Sometimes it doesn’t have to make sense,” she answered, sitting down next to him as she spread her arms just enough to invite him in. “Maybe you’re sad, maybe you’re angry, but there’s nothing wrong with feeling what you’re feeling.”

 

As her hands softly patted his back, he let more of his weight rest against her as his sobs died down, though his cheeks remained wet as they stained her uniform’s coat.

 

A soft laugh pulled him from his lull, causing him to meet her warm eyes. “You really loved your father, didn’t you?” She watched him answer with a small nod. Marianne’s palms moved in circles against his shoulder blades, lightly bumping over his scapulae in their motions. 

 

Silence washed over them as they continued their embrace, and despite the wet spot where he laid his head, they were comfortable.

* * *

 

The skies outside of the window darkened as Byleth found his head on Marianne’s lap, her fingers threading through his hair as they remained in silence, having lost track of time as they appreciated one another’s company. A few times he readjusted his shoulders, pressing against the leather seats or causing her thighs to lift slightly, but he quickly settled back into rest once more.

 

“It’s getting very late, Byleth,” Marianne finally said, and yet she made no effort to move, continuing to run her hands over his sea-green locks.

 

“Just a bit longer,” he mumbled, the result of his cheek squishing against her leg. He heard a sigh from above him, his eyes moving to peek at her from a corner only to see a serene smile appear on her face.

 

“I’ll count five minutes in my head, then we need to leave, alright?” She felt him nod from where he lay, as silence took the room again.

* * *

 

‘What the hell...?!’

 

Leonie walked briskly down the halls as her hands reflexively wrapped themselves around her body. After visiting Jeralt’s body in the crypt to say some final goodbyes, she decided to visit his former quarters to get a feel of what he was like, only to walk in on Marianne comforting the professor. Sure, she’d seen folks who’d been taken down a notch needing some words or a hug, but the way he bawled against her shoulder… 

 

Well, Byleth certainly kept privacy and intimacy together.

 

“She wasn’t there the whole time, was she—?”

 

“Leonie, what are you still doing up?” Lysithea asked, her hands holding onto a textbook.

 

“Huh? I can ask the same for you. What, you studying up late?”

 

The white-haired mage peered down at the book before looking back up. “Oh, no, I left this in the mess hall… What about you?”

 

“Well, I went to see Captain Jeralt, say my goodbyes before they put him in the ground.” Her arm reached over and tugged at the tight black. “Then, I went to visit his quarters.”

 

“Why would you need to visit his quarters?” Lysithea queried, adjusting her hold on the book.

 

“Sentimental reasons, really,” she answered, as she glanced off to the side. “... I ended up walking in on something else instead, though.”

 

“Someone was already in the captain’s quarters?”

 

“Y-yeah. The professor… and Marianne,” she drawled, her lips pursing. Lysithea gave Leonie a pitiful look, as the redhead’s eyebrow’s quirked in confusion. ‘Did… Professor Eisner have to be comforted before?’

 

“Oh, so you walked in on them making out, too?”

 

“Wait, what?!” Leonie scrambled for something to grab onto, only to end up shoving herself against a wall. “What do you mean, ‘too’?!”

 

A sheepish grin came across Lysithea’s features as she watched the panicking mercenary. “So, you didn’t walk in on something like that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite how predictable Jeralt's fate was, that whole scene and its follow-up was still very heart-wrenching.


	7. Paralogue - Worries and Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rinea’s concerns reach a tipping point.

It had been a tumultuous transition from winter to spring at Rigel Castle, starting with Lord Berkut’s engagement to Lady Rinea the previous autumn. Even with her lower status among nobility, the two took to each other like a moth to the flame, often sneaking moments whenever their respective duties allowed it. When the snow began to fall and they had been all but cooped up in the castle, the two became practically inseparable, often seen walking the corridors together.

 

Needless to say, Valentine’s night and a visit to the royal physician the month after was enough to turn Rinea’s world upside down.

  
As sunset bathed the castle, she sat in the parlor of their shared suite, her hands in her lap as she mulled over the news. Her eyebrows furrowed as she peered down, watching her fingers turn the ring in the opposite hand. Comprised of sterling silver with flourishes and fine etching, almost like herringbone, all surrounding brilliant emeralds, it was a beautiful ring presented to her months ago, and yet at this moment she felt ugly wearing it.

  
Since arriving in Rigel long ago, her family had managed to rise in power, and yet one thing kept them from reaching further heights: the passing of the Crest of the Beast. Despite their distance from Fódlan, the idea that their crest brought about misfortune continued to haunt them, and now Rinea found herself bringing someone into the world with that cursed blood.

  
“P-pregnant,” she softly mumbled to herself as her hand crept close to her stomach, her other hand rising to conjure the crest. “I’m so sorry, child… Berkut… for perpetuating this curse of mine.” Watching the materialized circle bathe the darkening room in its light, her eyes began to water as thoughts of a dark future filled her mind.

  
“Rinea, dear, are you there?”

 

Blinking her tears away, she turned her head to find Berkut in the threshold to the parlor, the still-cast crest causing her to cram her hand in between her body and the chair she sat in.

 

“Are you practicing magic? I appreciate your efforts, but you should do it in the yard, it’s much safer that way.” He watched her lips purse as she looked back down at her lap, her hands moving to hug her body. “My sweet, sweet Rinea, is something wrong?” As he moved closer, her jaw clenched slightly, a shaky exhale leaving her lungs.

  
“I’m sorry.” Rinea felt his hands ghost over her shoulders, having stopped in place upon her speaking. “I’ve been so caught up with our engagement, and, truth be told, I love you so, so much…”

  
Berkut’s hands moved to the back of the chair, his weight pressing into the cushion. “I suppose there’s a lot on your mind, is there?” A tentative nod answered him. “Whatever you have to say, I want to hear it. I don’t want us to drift apart over unsaid words.”

  
A long silence passed as he waited for her to speak once more, her mouth opening and immediately closing as she thought over her words. Creaking her head towards him, her eye glanced away as soon as it met his, worry continuing to decorate her features. “My family’s bloodline is cursed, Berkut,” she finally said, shrinking in on herself as her hand moved in front of her again, conjuring the crest once more. “This crest is supposed to bring nothing but contempt, the happiness we’ve found together won’t last, I fear.” Another silent moment found them as Berkut didn’t answer her. Turning her head slightly to look at him from her periphery, instead of shock or anger on his face, she instead found him in awe, his eyebrows raised as his gaze remained glued to the crest floating above her hand. “... Berkut?”

  
“That’s…” A low chuckle bubbled from his throat as he lowered himself to better view the glowing circle and its marks. “That’s Duma’s likeness.”

  
“Pardon me…?”

Lowering himself to kneel in front of her, his hands resting at the armrests, he looked into her eyes despite the glowing crest between them. “I don’t know anything about these ‘crests’, but to be carrying Duma’s image… Perhaps it was us meeting that’s finally brought about our happiness, and once we eventually take the throne—”

  
“But, this crest is supposed to—!” Despite her initial outburst, his soft grin didn’t waver, and she felt herself returning it. “... I suppose I’ve just had so many worries today.”

  
“If there’s anything else on your mind, please tell me, Rinea.”

  
Taking in a deep breath, she felt her nerves steeled from his comforting words. “You know how I’ve been ill these few days? Well, the physician said that I’m—we’re—expecting a child.”

 

Watching him blink a few times, Berkut’s smile simply grew in response. “We’re… we’re going to be parents?” She returned a nod. “Gods, a little prince or princess for us…”

  
“You’re not mad?”

  
“I can’t be mad with you, Rinea,” he answered, his cheeks pushing out a few tears. “You don’t know how happy this makes me!” His excitement left her speechless as he rose from his place, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “I’d still want the marriage ceremony to take place once my uncle gives us the throne, but I would love to have this child with you.”

  
“I… I really thought you’d be upset,” she said, glancing up at him. “I know how much tradition means to you.”

  
“Well, we’ll have to keep them out of the public eye for a while, but I will love the two of you with all of my heart, I will promise you that.” He gently took her hand as she rose from her seat, her eyes still looking at him. “We’ll have to read up on what your pregnancy will entail and child-rearing tonight—”

  
“Berkut! We could just do this in the morning!”

  
“It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, Rinea…”

  
A bright giggle left her mouth in response to his sudden concerns. “Let’s… just take this one step at a time, alright?”

   
His eyes glanced to the side as a light blush took over his face. “One step at a time,” he repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit I’ve actually wanted to write about Berkut and Rinea for a while despite not being in the plans, enough to where I didn’t think I could continue Marianne/Byleth until I got this off of my mind. Think of this as a sort-of supplementary material to Chapter 2.


	8. To the Moon and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sour reunion, followed by another.

Daybreak had barely come upon the Edmund estate when Marianne woke up that morning, shrugging off the blanket as she sat up, her expression pained. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she tried to think away what she recognized as a simple dream, one of an ideal life with her love… 

 

Only to wake up to an empty bed, the covers half-used, just as they were every day for the past five years, serving only to upset her.

 

Storming her way to the vanity, she saw the way her hair tangled in uncomfortable directions, criss-crossed from her tossing and turning, as her hand reached for the brush. The bristles slowly made their work on the various knots and kinks in her cerulean locks, as her eyes looked at her bangs in the reflection, seeing the way they shaded her face. An almost-overwhelming feeling of hiding away washed over her, and so she placed the brush back down as a deep sigh made its way out of her mouth. A few long moments later, she found her fingers playing with her hair, pulling up to reveal more of her face as an impulse came to her, her eyes panning towards a pair of scissors.

* * *

“Do you have to go, mama?”

 

Marianne’s head flicked down at her side as ultramarine eyes looked back at her. Small hands reached for the long blue fabric of her dress before pulling back slightly, uncertainty coming across the young girl’s face.

 

“I have to, Lily,” she answered, lowering herself to look at her daughter eye-to-eye. “I… I made a promise to some people I hold dear.”

 

Lilith von Edmund had her mother’s hair, all but the bangs pulled back by a floral-print headband, and her father’s eyes, the same brilliant color before he was taken into Zahras by Solon. The same eyes reminding her of a painful absence in her life.

 

Looking away briefly, the four-year-old simply nodded before returning her mother’s gaze. “Come back home safe, okay?”

* * *

“You don’t have to go, Marianne.” Margrave Edmund held an umbrella up as his daughter climbed into the carriage, a tired look across his features. His age was catching up to him, years upon years of making sure their territory was in order taking their toll.

 

“I made a promise, father.”

 

“I know that look, you don’t want to go. They’ll understand if you don’t show.”

 

Settling into her seat, Marianne stewed in silence, her hands neatly in her lap. Closing her eyes as she sucked in a breath, she carefully planned her next words. “I keep my word, just as you’ve taught me,” she said with a firm tone, her eyes flicking in his direction. She watched him taken aback, his grip on the umbrella wavering slightly as all of the water pelting the smooth surface ran down one side.

 

“Just… Just be safe.” She mumbled an affirmative as his free hand closed the door, sealing her in as the horses pulled her away from the estate.

* * *

Byleth didn’t expect to see a familiar face when he woke up. Claude von Riegan, his student, now the new leader of the Leicester Alliance, was there to greet the mercenary at the top of the stairs. Standing in the light beaming into the threshold from the outside world, the sunlight took to his sandy quilted doublet, the canary-yellow shoulder cloak, and the sash around his middle accompanied by a full set of sideburns cutting down towards his jaw. Five years since the braid from his school days.

 

Five years since their time at Garegg Mach.

 

Five years since he had fought alongside the Golden Deer.

 

And now, five years later, the two began fighting off thieves seeking to take from the monastery, with the rest of the Golden Deer slowly trickling in to reunite on their promised day.

 

Despite being split up all over the campus, they had done well composing themselves against the occupying bandits. Byleth and Claude eventually grouped up with Lorenz, Ignatz, Hilda, and Leonie along the western wall, while Marianne assisted Raphael and Lysithea in the Northeast corner. Pleasant words were exchanged between teacher and student whenever he positioned himself close… except from the Edmund heir, her eyes cast aside as she instead focused solely on decimating the enemy forces. Even when the remaining bandits were forced out after their leader’s death, Marianne kept to herself, only looking ever so briefly towards the reassembled group whenever someone mentioned her name.

 

Once the church faculty returned, repair efforts started in earnest, and nary a moment of relaxation could be found. Sleeping quarters were prioritized, estimated to be finished before dinnertime, though as soon as they were completed, Marianne took to her room, closing herself away for the night.

 

When Lysithea came to her door to call her for dinner, she was answered by a negatory mumble followed by silence. The Ordelia heir was left in the hallway as concern took her mind, her feet already heading to the dining hall to bring back something for the older woman to eat. Eventually, with a plate in hand, she started walking back, eventually bumping into Byleth at an intersection.

  
“Good evening, professor,” she greeted cheerily, though Byleth mentally took note of a slight shakiness in her brow—a sign of underlying worry. “Um, you’re probably wondering why this plate of food isn’t in the mess, right?”

 

“It has been quite a day.” Manuela insisted that he take it easy regarding concerns of any effects from being gone for five years, but he continued his rounds regardless, catching up whenever he could. “Are you taking your meal to your room?”

 

The question was enough to surprise Lysithea, her throat bulging slightly as she audibly gulped. “No, no, it’s for Marianne,” she answered, as her eyes lit up, an idea popping into her head. “Actually, can you bring it to her? I… forgot I had to catch up with Raphael! Yeah, we were going to talk over dinner.”

 

“I’m not sure if I should,” he answered slowly, his eyebrows dropping with dubiety.

 

“I really do need to get going,” she returned, pushing the plate into his hands before he could respond, pivoting on her heel and making her way back to the dining hall. ‘Hopefully he’s only on his second plate…’

* * *

The dark was a familiar comfort as she sat on the bed, her back against the wall, knees pulled close. She hadn’t bothered to take her boots off as they pressed into the mattress.

 

Someone who she kept dear to her heart, a half-decade of her trying to move on, was back before her eyes, appearing exactly the same as when she last saw him. Meanwhile, the years since had seen its changes to herself, most recently the hastily-chopped bangs lying against her forehead.

 

“He’s… he’s just a phantom who’s come back to haunt me,” she said to herself before resting her forehead against her knees, her sight swamped by the blue fabrics over her legs before screwing her eyes shut. “I’ll wake up in the morning, and he’ll be gone… That’s how it always goes.” In that moment, she contemplated beginning another prayer, her hands already joined together, and so she started her usual internal chant—

 

“Marianne, are you there?”

 

Byleth’s voice rang from the door as a few firm knocks followed, the deafening silence shattered in a few quick seconds before returning once more.

 

‘If I don’t talk, he’ll think I’ve left already,’ she thought to herself, her eyes planted on the door as she started praying for plan to come to fruition, only for the knob to start creaking, sending her mind into a panic as she realized she forgot to lock the door.

 

“I’ll just leave this on the table—” he started, entering the room only to find Marianne mid-leap from her bed. The cerulean of her robes with its gold trim seemed to shimmer even in the dark, his eyes slowly rising to catch the pop of white at her neck. He saw her familiar braiding, her trimmed bangs, and finally the stony eyes he had come to love so much.

 

Making eye contact with him finally, every bone in her legs turned to gelatin, collapsing onto her knees. Her hands moved to hit herself on her thighs, pounding once before her fingers clamped onto the fabric and the skin underneath, damning her legs for giving out as her lip quivered and her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked in concern, hurriedly placing the plate on the nearby desk as he rushed towards her, watching her flinch when he placed a hand on her arm.

 

As if on cue, a sob broke from her mouth, accompanied by a violent shake of her shoulders and tears flooding out and down her cheeks. “N-no… I’m not,” she answered in a heavy voice when the hiccuping finally gave her a clearing to speak. Soon, her body gave out, beginning to lean until his hands caught her, pulling her into an embrace.

 

“Talk to me, please,” he pleaded, his tone gentle as he held onto the shaking woman.

 

Her hands barely ghosted over his body, mind racing as she tried to comprehend everything happening to her in that moment: the familiar weight of his arms wrapping around her, his reassuring voice filling her ears, and, most importantly, his very presence and warmth surrounding her. Mentally pushing herself forward, she let her arms drop, her hands softly landing on his body and catching themselves on his belt, finally acknowledging that, yes, he was real.

 

“I… I tried to tell myself you were dead,” she started, a few lingering hiccups following as Byleth patted her back in an attempt to coax out any more. “Five years, I tried to tell myself that, and yet every night, I dream of all the times we’ve made each other happy. Waking up with you gone… Some days I started wishing I didn’t wake from my slumber, to stay in my dreams where I could pretend to be happy.

 

“And I couldn’t just move on, either. I could convince myself if I tried hard enough, but the hardest thing in the world is having to explain to a child why her other parent isn’t in their life… I wasn’t living for just myself in your absence, but instead for two of us. If I couldn’t give myself resolution, what could I tell her?”

 

They remained silent as Byleth adjusted his hold on her body, unknowingly reassuring her of the moment they’ve found themselves in. Eventually, the two became acutely aware of their quiet solitude, their ears picking up the sounds of gentle exhaling from one another.

 

“I’m here now, Marianne. You and our child, I’ll be here for both you,” he said, his embrace tightening slightly, feeling her breath hitch.

 

“You’re here now,” she finally returned, leaning her head against his shoulder.

* * *

“So… we have a child?” Byleth asked, letting Marianne lean back against him as they sat on the bed, her head rubbing just under his chin as he watched her nod in his periphery.

 

“Her name is Lilith,” she answered, her head craning back to look at him as best she could, barely getting his ear in her vision.

 

“When’s her birthday?”

 

“The fifteenth day of the Verdant Rain Moon. She’ll be five this year.” Turning her shoulders further, she watched his near-blank expression, a long silence settling over them. “Byleth?"

 

“Verdant Rain Moon…”

 

“Huh?”

 

“She’s four right now, correct?” he inquired, answered by a soft nod. A low chuckle escaped his mouth, nuzzling his chin against the crown of her head. “I guess she was your birthday gift, wasn’t it?”

 

A warmth flooded her cheeks as she squirmed in his grasp, her head pressing hard against his collar as she shut her eyes, huffing. “That’s all you’re taking from this?”

 

“It is something I’ll take away, but…” he drawled, pressing a soft kiss behind her braid, “I know I really want to meet her. What’s she like?”

 

“She’s… she definitely takes after her father,” she answered slowly, her hands placing themselves over his as she relaxed against him once more. “She can be a bit stubborn, she has the occasional moment of silliness—”

 

“I’m not silly.”

 

“There’s that stubbornness.” Marianne’s fingers reached for one of Byleth’s thumbs, pulling it around slightly as she thought of what else to say. “... Despite that, she’s very determined at times, just like you.”

 

“You’re determined, too.”

 

“Well, I only know what I can see,” she said, attempting to look back at him again. “I missed this.”  
  
“I missed this too,” he returned, softly pulling his hand from under both of hers before settling on her hips, appreciating her presence under him.

 

Then he suddenly yanked the both of them onto their side.

 

“Wait—!” A laugh exploded out of her mouth, only to be silenced as Byleth briefly pressed his lips against hers before pulling back. “It’s been a long time, are you sure you don’t want to take this slowly?”

 

“I’ve been gone for five years, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” he answered, dipping back down for another kiss.

* * *

“THAT was your plan?” Raphael bellowed out a laugh as he placed his silverware to the sides of the plate, a half-eaten fourth serving as Lysithea tucked into a citrus sorbet.

 

“It was either that, or have the two of them skirt around each other,” she returned, pointing her spoon at her eating companion. “You saw them on the battlefield, they were…” Pointing at her eyes, her purple orbs flicked to the sides repeatedly in an attempt to mime their awkward glances until she saw Claude slowly enter the dining hall.

 

Approaching their table, the Alliance leader sat himself down, a mile-long stare burning into the table as his hands folded themselves on the placemat.

 

“Hey, are you alright? Raphael asked, leaning towards Claude in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“In a sense, I have.” His index fingers tapped twice before looking at the other two. “Were Teach and Marianne always involved in… that way?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean… were they always... intimate?”

 

“You’re asking that now?” Lysithea asked, leaning forwards slightly as she ate a spoonful of sorbet. “They have a kid.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since when—she turned four last year! You were there! She called you Uncle Claude!”

 

“Oh yeah… That happened. Wait, how do you guys know?”

  
Raphael and Lysithea shared a look before turning their attention back towards Claude.

 

Raphael took his fork to his food before composing himself. “Well, I sort of pieced it together, and everyone else told me when I brought it up. What about you, Lysithea?”

 

“I walked in on them,” she answered, placing her spoon down. “It was actually the night we were assigned reading on staves and bows.”

 

“So, that’s why you were outside of Teach’s office that night?”

 

“Y-yeah… I mean, everyone else found out eventually, but at the time it was so jarring.”

  
Claude slowly leaned forward, his hands moving to prop himself over the table. “Wait, so they were doing it in his office too?”

  
Lysithea’s eyebrow quirked. “I walked in on them making out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  
Bending his arms to let his hands tent over his mouth, Claude let a breath escape his nose. “Clearly, we’re on two separate threads…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW BERKUT AND RINEA IN FEH, IT HYPED ME UP SO MUCH I SHOT THIS CHAPTER OUT! I'll definitely have to do a Heroes-related chapter, and hopefully I can summon them in real life.
> 
> I did Claude’s reaction, but I don’t really have any interest in doing the others (maybe Hilda giving Marianne hints that she knows pre-timeskip). I mean, it would just be another “Oh hey I didn’t know this was going on” “Oh yeah I knew” schtick again, though tying it into making the Golden Deer one big family was fairly interesting for me.
> 
> This was very much a mirror of Chapter 6, which may be good or bad depending on perspective.


	9. Chained to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to business as usual for the lady and her steward.

The trip back to Garegg Mach had been less stressful for the couple than they had anticipated. Between the impending doom that was Nemesis’ approach on the monastery and making sure Edmund territory was safe (Margravate Edmund kept the region’s military on standby, along with taking Byleth’s input), the two had been relieved to simply let the carriage ride pan out with the occasional bump in the road. Lilith, too, had been more than excited to see new places, and was more than willing to help out with preparing for the trip, though it mostly amounted to chatting up a storm with each of her parents as they went about their business before climbing into the vehicle. After feasting on what remained of her bag of treats from the day before, she was fast asleep on the cushions, her head rested on Marianne’s lap.  


“To think yesterday a single piece of candy would make her so jittery,” she mused, running her fingers through her sleeping daughter’s bangs before adjusting the hairband above them. With a slight puff to her cheeks, a smile crept up on her face as she looked up at the green-haired man across from her.

  
“Dad did say I was fairly unpredictable,” he returned, leaning forward the rest his forearms on his knees, joining his hands together. Seeing the two made him grin, characteristically small for the usually stoic man, but one that made Marianne’s smile grow regardless.

 

The two sat in silence, aside from the soft snores coming at even intervals, barely paying minor bumps in the road any mind. Their eyes would occasionally wander to the windows giving a small view of the outside, but then their vision would return to Lilith, then to one another, a continuous cycle of quiet spectating.

 

“I have a family now,” he said abruptly, nearly startling the Edmund heiress, though she immediately reined herself in.

  
The two watched Lilith continue to slumber, turning to one side, towards Byleth, as her cheek squished against her mother’s thigh.

  
“I… I prayed so much for you to see her, whether you were alive or dead."

 

Byleth’s eyes lidded as he thought of what to say. “Well, seeing her now... I love her to bits, truly. She has a wonderful mother to raise her.”

  
“I think her father is equally wonderful,” she returned, leaning forward slightly.

  
“No, he’s not, he should’ve been there from the start.”

  
“Then he needs to know that they can take this step by step.” Byleth looked up and met Marianne’s umber eyes, her expression softening. “The look in his eyes right now tells me he’ll be a good father.”

  
Byleth’s back met the cushion behind him, his eyes wide in surprise, blinking away as Marianne returned to watching over Lilith, gently combing blue hair with her fingers.

 

“Thank you, Marianne,” he returned, meeting her eyes again, his gaze soft.

 

“What for?”

 

“For… For letting me back into your life.”

  
It was her turn to be stunned, a light bubbly giggle coming forth as she looked back. “You always had a place, Byleth. Just—”

  
All of a sudden, the carriage came to a stop, its occupants swaying due to its momentum, as one side of it rose slightly. The hard impact of boots hitting the ground can be heard as a few gentle knocks came at the door.

 

“Lady Edmund, Sir Eisner, we’ve arrived at Garegg Mach Monastery,” the driver announced through the thin door.

  
“C’mon, Teach, everyone’s waiting,” Claude’s distinct voice called out.

  
A sigh escape Marianne’s mouth as Byleth leaned out of his seat, opening the door outwards. “You can tell me later.”

 

At her side, a mumble rang out as Lilith sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “We… stopped?”

 

“We’re here, dear,” her mother answered, taking a handkerchief to wipe off the trail of drool from under the girl’s lip.

 

“We’re here?!” Clambering past both parents, she stormed down the steps, catching the bright yellow of Claude’s shoulder cloak. “Uncle Claude!”

  
“Hey, Lily!” he called back, swooping the charging toddler into a hug, raising her into the air before swiftly placing her back down. “ Wow, you are so much bigger than I remember!”

  
“I’m five now! I hope I’m bigger!”

  
“Wow, now that’s a voice I haven’t heard in a while,” Hilda drawled as she approached the stopped carriage. “Welcome back Marianne, and also you, professor.” She reached a hand out, helping the two of them down.  


“Thank you, Hilda,” Marianne returned, folding her hands by her diaphragm.

 

“How has Garegg Mach been in our absence?” Byleth asked, resuming his rigid stance.

 

“We’ve been taking refugees and injured troops retreating from Nemesis’ march,” the Goneril woman answered, bringing a hand to her chin. “Aside from that, we’ve been fine, though it has been a bit lonely without you two.”

 

“Perhaps we can chat and catch up a little later?” Marianne offered.

 

“Sorry, I have duties to attend to today. Lorenz is having me and Raphael clear up some of the rubble today. Ugh, who does he think he is, anyways? Assigning a delicate girl like me to do heavy-lifting...”

 

“I did ask him to cover for me in our absence.”

 

“You weren’t supposed to answer that, professor!”

  
“Um, Aunt Hilda?” Lilith asked, tugging on the older woman’s skirt. “If it’s so hard, then can I help?”

 

“Huh? You want to help?” Hilda returned, watching the girl nod back. “Oh, I can’t ask that of you… Maybe you can watch? I think having a third set of eyes can help us. How does that sound?”

 

“If it’ll help you!”

 

“Perfect!” Hilda turned back towards Byleth and Marianne. “Don’t worry your heads over her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt, and Raphael will too!”

  
The two marched past Claude as he tilted his head at Byleth, an amused smile on his face. “Nice look, Teach. Really tying into the Edmund colors.”

 

“Thank you, I… I had my reservations, but it seems everyone thinks otherwise.”

 

“Let me guess, you thought it had too much gold?”

 

“Too much gold.”

 

“Yeah, I remember saying that when I first tried the officers academy uniform,” Claude said, crossing his arms before looking at Marianne. “Milady.”

 

“You don’t need to call me that, Claude,” she returned, returning mild amusement.

  
“I was in the mood. Anyways, glad to have you back.” Claude started to turn back towards the gate only to look back at Byleth. “Oh, and Teach?”

 

“Hm?”

  
“Don’t let Lorenz hold seminars ever again.”

* * *

 

Holing up in his quarters, Byleth looked over maps and various manuals, wracking his brain over the best option to take the Alliance forces in the coming weeks. He contemplated having some of the better mages take on the role of mortal savants, then considering where to place them, only to find himself at square one, ready to redraft the plan only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. He readied himself to remain silent in a bid to feign silence, until…  


“Byleth? Can we have dinner?” Marianne’s voice called out from behind the door, as he automatically walked up from his seat.

 

Cracking the door open to the evening light, he saw the setting sun cast its rays against her locks, still intricately braided together. “What time is it?”  


“The sun’s starting to set,” she answered, an almost coy smile taking her expression. “Usually Raphael would be lined up for his second plate by now.”

 

Byleth blinked in befuddlement before chuckling, with Marianne joining in his laughter. “That’s good. Let’s go.”

 

Nodding once, she stepped out of the way, letting him close one door as she closed the other, then walking alongside him. “It’s spicy fish dango tonight,” she said, her eyes set forward.

 

“Really? Do you like that?”

 

“I do.” Rather than make a turn for the courtyards, they stepped down into the grassy lawn in front of the lower steppe of dorms, the vegetation crunching under their feet. “It reminds me of my trip to Valentia with my adoptive father.”

 

“The marketplace, I presume?”

 

“Yes. You know the story, right?”

 

“I do remember. He took you to Chon’sin, and you told me you loved the food. Though, you only told me dumplings.”

 

“Yes, I’m surprised you remember that. It’s true, I only talked about the dumplings at the time, but… there were more important things to discuss that day. Still, the food from that trip left a big impact on me, especially after learning the things I did. It’s not quite Rigelian, but eating food so similar to what should be home… It makes me feel closer to them.”

 

“Lord Berkut and Lady Rinea,” he added, the two climbing the steps towards the dining hall. “Perhaps I can feel closer to them, too.

* * *

 

‘This feels like hell.’

 

Byleth’s mouth was on fire, his lips pursed as if to contain the figurative inferno, numbing parts of his mouth and scorching other parts. The sticky, bright red balls were so vivid in their color that it stained the thin wood penetrating through them. The first of two skewers, and he had only taken the first bite.

 

Looking up at the woman sitting across from him, he watched Marianne pull off another segment of the sticky skewer, chewing at it in glee. Next to her Lilith did the same, though the occasional bead of sweat dripped down from her forehead. The two were practically in heaven, eating their meal in absolute delight.  


“How are those two able to eat that stuff?” Hilda leaned over to ask, watching in near-horror as they moved on to the second skewer. “Even poor Raphael’s pouring milk down his throat.”

 

Byleth remained silent, slowly bringing the dango back up to his mouth to slide another piece off with his teeth, his numbed mouth barely registering the new amount of spice landing on his taste buds.

 

“These are quite good,” Marianne said as she moved her hand back to take off the last ball of dango. “The fish is always a pleasant surprise, I feel.”

 

“Mm!” Lilith mumbled in agreement, and proceeded to yank off two segments of the dango simultaneously, her eager chewing taking on an audible smacking.

 

“Lily,” Byleth managed to bark out, nearly setting his throat alight from the spice coating the inside of his mouth.

 

“Mm…” Lilith’s shoulders slumped as she eased up on her chewing before swallowing her food. “Sorry, papa.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I almost want to forgo my manners too,” Marianne said, placing the empty skewer onto the plate. “However, we need to be courteous to our dining partners, even if the food is more than good.”

 

Lilith looked over at her father, as if he was going to add something, and watched him nod, silently reaffirming her mother’s statement. “So… I can still like it?”

 

“You can,” Marianne answered. Lilith, with renewed vigor, yanked away the last ball of dango from her skewer.

* * *

After giving Hilda permission to let Lilith sleepover in her dorm room, Marianne and Byleth began a stroll on monastery grounds, the pale moonlight shining down upon the ground. Eventually, they found themselves walking past the stairway to the sauna and towards his quarters.

 

“Would you mind if I stayed the night?” she asked, following up the few steps to the doors.

 

“I was wondering why you said yes to Hilda.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to her,” Marianne answered as her hands moved up to fix an odd wrinkle at his tunic.

 

Byleth smiled at her gesture as his fingers rose up to play with her neckerchief, the white fabric smooth in his grip. “And I wouldn’t say no to you.”

 

Letting herself get backed against the door, she tilted her head slightly as he started to lean in, except stopping short a few inches from her lips. “You never did finish what you were going to say in the carriage.”

 

“I didn’t, didn’t I?” Trying to remember, she absently reached for his tunic again, pinching the pattern. “Let’s see…”

 

“Something about me always having a place?”

 

“Y-yes. I… That I… That if there wasn’t one for you where I was, that I would join you, so that we can find a place where we can be together.” The two stood in silence as Marianne’s eyes peered down, not quite understanding what she just said. “That wasn’t what you expected to hear, was it?”

 

“No, it’s… it’s perfect. I get it. Thank you.” Looking back up, she was met with a smile, enough of a second answer as she tilted her head back ever so slightly again, inviting him to lean in...  


“I hope you two are simply going to bed, and not staying up tonight.”

 

The couple immediately pulled away from one another, looking past the pillar to find Seteth, a bemused look on his face, a set of clothes tucked underneath his arm.

 

“I understand the nature of your relationship, professor and Lady Edmund, but we are quite at risk of being invaded. I suggest you remain properly rested to prepare, both for the estimated engagement and anything that may come up.”

 

“Y-yes, Seteth.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Good. Now, on my return trip from the sauna, I should not hear a peep from those doors, as you two will be fast asleep, okay?”

 

The two meekly nodded, the dragged-out sentences wracking their nerves.

 

“Excellent. Good night, you two.” With a gentle smile, the emerald-haired man continued his on his way, his cape fluttering slightly in the growing distance.

 

“I think I’ll get some sleep,” Byleth said, a shaky breath escaping.

 

“Y-yes, that’ll be good.” Marianne awkwardly eased herself out of the way, the couple retreating inside to do as Seteth had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne likes Super Spicy Fish Dango, but not the Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew… Guess she doesn’t like turnips.


	10. The Best Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The queen gets a surprise.

“You look like you had fun.”

 

“I did, thank you.”

 

It was Saturday, the twenty-third day of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180. A free day among students and faculty, and for our pair they passed the time outside of campus, seeing the sights and having enjoyed dinner without the hustle and bustle of the monastery’s dining hall. The evening uniform of the officers academy, while overly formal, kept Marianne warm with all of its layers, yet it was subtle, much stealthier than even her usual dress. Byleth, meanwhile, took to borrowing a uniform himself, fitting a cap and glasses on in a thinly-veiled attempt to disguise himself.

 

Still, they could not go five minutes without any amount of grazing of skin, and by evening the Edmund heiress was clinging to the professor’s arm as they snuck back onto campus.

 

Skirting by the fishing hole’s edge, Byleth looked towards the dining hall, its windows fully illuminated as the sound of silverware clattering against ceramic and ladles scraping against pots and pans rang out into the evening air. The facility was in full swing—a perfect opportunity to sneak away a final moment together…

 

And then Marianne nudged him away from his intended destination of the stairs leading to the dormitory’s second floor and instead to the right.

 

“Ah—”

 

“I’m sorry, but… I don’t want this evening to end.”

 

Crossing the grassy lawn in front of the second tier of dorms and up another flight of stairs, the two found themselves at the doors to his quarters, looking at one another as Marianne tried to work up another capacity of courage.

 

“S-so…” she started, rubbing the fabric at the inner elbow of her opposite arm as she thought of her words. “I had a wonderful evening, truly, but… I…”

 

“You dragged me here when I was going to bring you back to your dorm.”

 

“Y-yes…”

 

“It’s a long way from your dorm, you know,” Byleth said, pressing his shoulder against the doorframe.

 

“I know, but… What I want to do with you… It would be more awkward if a teacher was seen on the second floor late in the evening, no?”

 

Byleth merely blinked as he re-thought her words over and over again, until…

 

“Ah.”

 

Marianne watched as a sense of understanding crossed his face, his mouth having dropped into a small “o”. “Last week, you asked what kind of gift I wanted.”

 

“And you told me you’d tell me today.”

 

She shook her head, her hand moving up to her jawline as she met his eyes. “This is… This is the gift I wanted.”

 

Behind the lenses of his spectacles, Byleth’s eyes closed as a soft laugh worked its way out from his mouth, a gentle smile on his face as he pushed off from the wall, and soon had Marianne against the oak wood of the doors.

 

“I want this, too,” he said as he slowly pressed his forehead against hers, her heart racing as a pounding was heard in her ears...

* * *

“Hey, wake up…”

 

Opening her eyes, Marianne found herself in the dark, her immediate sight being the bundles of blankets layered over both her and the massive bed she was in.

 

It was the bedroom for the king and queen of the unified Fódlan, the massive chamber slowly coming to view as her eyes adjusted. Judging by the amount of moonlight creeping through the curtains, it was very early in the morning.

 

Sitting up with a mumble as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she looked over and found Byleth at the bedside looking back, his seafoam-green hair a mess. She opened her mouth to speak, only for another round of pounding to work its way from outside of the doors before fading out.

 

“Who’s up at this hour?” she asked, reaching over to the night stand to fit a band into her blue locks; it was not the time to sit down and braid her hair.

 

“I… I didn’t want to check it on my own.”

 

“So you woke me up?” She watched the king nodding his head, his eyes glancing to the side in a brief moment of humility as she held her hand out. “Can you help me up?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Despite donning socks and sleepwear, the two made their way to the door, Byleth resting his chin atop her head as they looked down both directions of the hallway. Their feet made barely a sound as they kept an alertness, alternating taking point at every turn. The faint pounding came to their ears as they turned their heads, catching a glimpse of two near-identical figures and a smaller one running across the hall quickly.

 

“... We’re gonna have to sit them down for a talk, aren’t we?” Byleth said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Yes, we will have to,” Marianne returned, her body relaxing from high alert to mild caution as they followed in the direction of the twins and the toddler.

* * *

Shortly after marrying in the Great Tree Moon of Imperial Year 1187, the couple had been blessed with seeing another member joining the royal family. Due to his initial disappearance during Garegg Mach’s fall, this was the first time Byleth was becoming a father, and, despite his outward appearance, almost all of his former students that visited them knew he was infinitely more nervous than Marianne.

 

Byleth’s intuition was found to be right come Lone Moon as everyone scrambled to accommodate the arrival of two children to the royal family.

 

Geraldine was another story. Three years after having the twins, Hilda had asked Byleth and Marianne to take some time off, the two having worked non-stop along with raising three children. After some teasing and promising to watch the kids in their absence, the royal couple went off on a short trip during the Pegasus Moon.

 

At the time, the two didn’t think that Marianne would end up spending the entirety of her following birthday in labor over their second daughter.

 

“Bernard? René?” Marianne called out, at least as loud as she was comfortable saying early in the morning. Byleth followed closely behind, checking every door they passed.

 

“They just had to wake up Gerry…” he said, closing the door behind him.

 

“Yes, but why—” Marianne’s eyes spotted the dark aqua hair of the twins as they continued their march. “They’re headed for the kitchen.”

 

“Oh no.” The couple broke into a jog as they followed suit, the three children entering their sight once more. While the twins continued unfettered, Geraldine looked back in the direction of the footsteps, stumbling upon seeing her parents approaching her.

 

“Ow…” Before she could start to nurse the elbow that impacted the floor, Byleth had crouched down by her, his mint green eyes meeting her ultramarine eyes.

 

“What’s grandpa’s favorite doing up so early?” he said as he helped her upright, continuing to make eye contact.

 

“Oh, it’s a secret,” she cheerily said, finally getting a chance to rub at her elbow as her mother crouched down nearby. “But, Lily said if you follow Bernard you can find it.”

 

“So, were you following those two to find the secret?” Marianne asked, her hand rustling Geraldine’s blonde locks—identical in shade to her grandfather’s.

 

A bubbly giggle rang out as Geraldine’s hands went up in an attempt to push her mother’s hand off of her head. “No, no! I know what the secret is! You need to find it!”

 

Byleth watched in amusement as Marianne continued her teasing, gently grazing her palm against the now-messy locks, eliciting another giggle. “C’mon, you two, we’re not gonna see what this little secret is if you keep at what you’re doing, okay?”

* * *

“How do you lose Gerry?”

 

“I don’t know, she was behind René.”

 

“Don’t blame me, she was supposed to follow you!”

 

“I wasn’t blaming you.”

 

“Don’t worry, we found her,” Byleth said as the three entered the dining hall, Geraldine sitting on his shoulders. “Care to explain why all four of you are up so early?”

 

Bernard and René awkwardly looked between their parents then to one another, simply letting out a mumble.

 

“Lily, can you explain?” Marianne asked the teen. She mentally noted how her eldest daughter was wearing an apron.

 

“We… We wanted to make you something,” she answered, trying her best to return eye contact. “Well, it was originally going to be for just you, but I figured dad would like to be there too… And then these three wanted to join in, but I didn’t want them near the fire so I had them run around.”

 

Looking past Lilith, Marianne found six cloches at the table, each one flanked by a napkin and silverware. “You made us breakfast?” She watched the head of sky-blue hair nod.

 

“Yeah... Happy birthday, mom.”

 

“Happy birthday, mom,” the twins said in unison, managing to look up at her from behind their eyelashes.

 

“Happy birthday, mommy!” Geraldine let out another laugh of joy.

 

“Happy birthday, Marianne,” Byleth said, a knowing smile on his face.

 

“... Were you in on this?”

 

Byleth remained silent for a few minutes, looking up at Geraldine briefly. “Well, not entirely. Someone had to wake you up, and considering you slept through the three of them stomping past the door for ten minutes straight...” He watched a conflicted look flash across her face. “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted this to be a surprise for you, too.”

 

“No, no, I understand,” she quickly said, trying to ease his worries. “… Did I really sleep through all of that, though?”

 

“You did.” After a soft pat to the top of his head, Byleth lowered Geraldine to the floor. “It looked like you were having a wonderful dream, though.”

 

“It was. It was a wonderful dream.” The small smile on her face only grew larger as she thought of it again. “Do you remember the first time we celebrated my birthday together?”

 

“I do.”

 

“That’s what I was dreaming about.”

 

“Really?”

 

“So, are we just standing here, or do you want to eat breakfast?” Lilith asked, her hand at her jawline. “I mean, if you guys just want to stand there, that’s alright, but I really don’t want to hear about the first time you celebrated mom’s birthday… And I do mean the ‘first time’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilith's become self-aware.


	11. Lily of the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth visits Edmund territory for the first time, and meets someone new.

Following the fall of Shambhala, the Leicester Alliance and the Knights of Seiros now had the oncoming threat of Nemesis and his forces to deal with, the latter ravaging everything in their path on their beeline towards Garegg Mach. Small squads were dispatched to guide refugees and to evacuate any villages. Leaving Lorenz to act in his place, Byleth readied himself to depart from the monastery, packing saddlebags before laying it over Dorte’s back. Marianne, meanwhile, was preparing said horse, fitting the bridle over his muzzle, and giving him small words of encouragement.

 

“That should be everything,” Byleth said, wriggling the saddle to check it was secure before mounting the Sword of the Creator and Blutgang, each in a custom-made leather harness, the products of a seminar held by Catherine for other relic wielders.

 

“You’ve never been to Edmund territory before, have you?” Marianne asked as she threw the reins past Dorte’s head, the stallion shaking his head and twitching his ears.

 

“No, never.” Despite seldom having ridden horses, the mercenary expertly guided his foot into the stirrup and threw himself upwards, straddling the saddle. “What’s it like?”

 

Marianne made her way around the horse, looking up at Byleth. “It’s much colder there than the other territories of the Leicester Alliance,” she answered, holding her hand out for him. Just as quickly, he pulled Marianne onto the saddle, with her taking the seat in front of him. “Even right now, it’s not very hot there.”

 

“It sounds lovely,” he said, holding up the reins for Marianne to take. “It’s a shame that my first time there is due to emergency protocol.”

 

“Mm”. With a soft press of her feet against Dorte’s sides, the stallion moved forward, walking towards the steps leading out from the stables. “They shouldn’t be in any danger, but I still worry…”

 

Before Byleth can question the architecture of the monastery, Dorte deftly maneuvered past scaffolding and placed guards until they were across from the main gates.

 

“Greetings, professor!” the gatekeeper hollered, holding his hand up briefly for a quick salute.

 

“Nothing to report?”

 

“Correct! Well, apart from the usual… We just took in more refugees.”

 

“Very uncouth, this Nemesis,” the Gloucester heir chimed in, walking out into the sunlight. “He’s nothing more than a basic barbarian if he’s plowing right through villages. To think this is what the legend truly was.”

 

“We’re learning a lot about what the past actually was, aren’t we?” Claude walked past the purple-haired noble. “Setting out, teach?”

 

“Yes. You can handle everything in my absence, Lorenz?”

 

“Certainly! I think I am more than capable of helping everyone brush up on combat and tactics before this threat arrives. Still, I hope that no harm comes to both you and Marianne during your travels.”

 

“I shall pray for everyone’s safety in return,” she said as she adjusted her grip on the reins.

 

“Great, because we’ll need it,” Claude returned. “The last thing we need is Nemesis arriving here faster than our estimations or you two getting into trouble. The ‘we got ambushed and can’t make it back’ kind of trouble, I mean.” Following it with a wink, Marianne’s cheeks flushed, tilting her head away and causing Claude to snicker.

 

Lorenz quirked an eyebrow. “What other kind of trouble are you insinuating, Claude?”

 

“Nothing!” Claude proceeded to perform a mock bow, which served to exasperate Lorenz, who retreated back into the hall. “Anyways, stay safe, you two.”

 

Marianne quickly cued Dorte to move forward, the stallion making his way towards the gates once more.

 

Sitting in his place on the saddle, Byleth leaned forward. “Just what did Claude mean, do you know?”

 

“W-well… Um… Don’t worry about it.”

* * *

Without a convoy of their peers to contend with, Byleth and Marianne traveled as fast as Dorte could take them, informing villages they passed through and resting for the night. It wasn’t until they finally left Derdriu that Byleth felt the winds change, the familiar warm summer air now replaced by cool breezes.

 

It seemed Dorte, too, felt the change as his traveling speed slowed to what seemed like a light jog for the steed. Despite the urgency, they all took a moment to finally unwind from the past few days of constant travel.

 

“This is… This is nice,” Byleth said suddenly, his head tilting around to take in his surroundings. Distant villages and sprawling green filled his vision, only interrupted by the woman sitting in front of him. “How far do we have left?”

 

It took Marianne a bit to answer, having taken the time to indulge in the cool air herself. “Not too much now,” she answered, pressing her feet against Dorte’s sides again to get him to move faster. “I don’t think the people here are in any real danger, so we’ll head straight for the estate.”

 

“That sounds good.” While the past few days whizzed by in their hurry, the minutes that encompassed passing by the first village on the main road felt excruciatingly long for the mercenary until once more his vision was filled with unfamiliar greenery...

* * *

_ “You alright, kid?” _

 

_ Byleth blinked as he looked to the side, his father staring back worryingly. _

 

_ “You’ve been staring past the edge for a while there. Teaching’s got you like that?” _

 

_ Byleth shook his head. _

 

_ “Oh, then is it your assignment? You’ve dealt with bandits before, and so have your students. Just because it’s in a tower doesn’t make it any different.” _

 

_ “No, I’m not worried about that,” he said, looking back over the edge at the forestry surrounding the monastery. _

 

_ “But you are worried.” _

 

_ Byleth merely nodded. “I am.” _

 

_ “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Jeralt leaned forward, resting his arms on the stone in front of him. “It’s a girl, huh?” _

 

_ Byleth made no noise, remaining stone-faced as possible, though it made no difference. “You can’t fool me, kid. I mean, unless it’s a boy, which is also fine… A-anyways, I’ll keep hush about it—don’t want you getting reprimanded by the church for having a little crush.” _

 

_ “Y-yeah…” _

 

_ Jeralt patted the younger mercenary’s shoulder before taking a look past the edge. “... Your mother liked this spot, too, y’know?” Byleth simply looked at the older man, a wistful smile on his face. “Oh yeah. Sometimes, she’d read to the kids that come in from outside the monastery’s grounds, or she’d just sit here on her own when the day was winding down. More often than not, I’d find her here when I can’t get an answer from anyone else on where she was… But, that’s enough rambling out of me. I’ll tell you more about her someday, alright?” _

 

_ “Yeah…” _

_   
_ _   
_ _ “Okay.” Jeralt patted him on the shoulder once more. “Good luck out there, kid. You’re gonna need it.” _

* * *

Byleth groaned as his eyes flashed open, feeling his body slumped up against something in front of him.

 

“You’re awake,” he heard in an amused tone.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“We’re almost to the estate,” Marianne said, feeling Byleth right himself, his hands using the space between them to push himself upright. “You can get all the rest you need there.”

 

“I think you’ll need it more, Marianne.” A light laugh answered him.

 

He could feel the horse speed up under Marianne’s ministrations, her hands lightly tugging the reins whenever Dorte started to veer slightly until the sight of a large home broke through the trees.

* * *

The two approached the steps of the estate when Marianne froze all of a sudden, her legs quivering.

 

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just… This time of year—”

 

“Before Lilith…” Byleth watched her nod from where she stood. Before he knew it, his hand was outstretched in front of her, his palm presenting itself. “... Would you like some help, then?”

 

Marianne blinked a few times, her eyes moving from his palm to his own eyes repeatedly before a shaky hand placed itself into his. “Can you help me?” she said in a small voice as her shoulders started to climb up.

 

He simply nodded and tightened his grip before easing her forward, softly pushing at the small of her back as she tentatively took the first step. Between the two of them, she made a few heavy exhales, her free hand pressed against her diaphragm—he realized she was reliving the days leading up to Lilith’s birth despite the years since. A few encouraging words here and there along with a guiding hand…

 

“Just a few more, okay?” Marianne nodded before taking another step, only for her to stumble forward, nearly pulling down Byleth with her.

 

The force of falling over was enough to pull her into the present, but, rather than landing onto the steps, her body was quite a ways away, held up somewhere between a vice grip and a soft embrace as she felt a rhythmic pressure against her—Byleth’s quick breathing from having to catch her. Before she could say something, he eased both himself and her to sit on the steps, placing her onto his lap and leaned his head forward, pressing it against her shoulder.

 

“I should’ve been there for you,” he said, his voice muffled by the blue fabric, only to look up at her when she pressed her hand to his chest.

 

“You’re here now. Thank you.” She rested her head into the crook of his neck, and he leaned back in turn...

 

“Mister, what are you doing to mama?”

 

Both Byleth and Marianne craned their heads in the direction of the voice, finding a small girl looking at them oddly. Her blue hair, apart from her bangs, was pulled back by a flower-print hairband and cascaded over her shoulders, and she held a storybook against herself, the leather cover wrinkling the navy fabric of her dress.

 

Ultramarine eyes moved to look at the mercenary in particular, a shade he had only seen when looking in a mirror before being taken into a realm of darkness, before Sothis became a part of him.   
  


Releasing his arms from around Marianne, Byleth helped her off his lap, the noblewoman placing her legs under herself. “I’m… I’m back, Lily,” Marianne said, instinctively pushing a loose lock back behind her ear.

 

“You were gone for a long time, mama,” Lilith returned, her eyes flicking between the two adults. Byleth could already see suspicion brewing in the child’s face.

 

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Marianne said, giving her a soft smile. “I… I found something important, that’s why.”

 

Lilith pouted. “Am I not important?”

 

“You’re very important to mommy, Lily, but what I found is important for you. Can you forgive mommy?”

 

The child seemed unconvinced but continued to look at Marianne. “What did you find for me?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

 

“I want you to meet someone very special,” Marianne returned, letting herself relax, her shoulders slacking somewhat. “This is your father.”

 

If Marianne and Byleth were expecting any energy out of the girl, they didn’t get it, with Lily’s eyes continuing to flick back and forth between them before settling on the mercenary. “... You don’t look like me,” she mumbled as she raised the book, hiding her face partly behind it.

 

“I don’t look like my father either… But apparently I look like my mother,” Byleth said, trying to give as best a smile as he could give to the child.

 

“I look like mama, too.”

 

“Then, we both have something in common.”

 

Lily’s face remained unconvinced, but she didn’t shy away from Byleth. “... Miss Margot said lunch would be ready soon.”

* * *

Despite just starting lunch, Lily’s plate was already picked clean with barely a scrap left, the child still at her seat as Byleth and Marianne worked at their plates.

 

“Do you want more to eat?” Byleth asked, noticing how Lily was staring at the empty plate.

 

“I want seconds, but…” She peeked up at Marianne before her eyes settled on her plate again. “Mama never eats seconds, so I feel bad.”

 

“So you won’t eat seconds if someone else doesn’t?” Her head nodded. “I’ll have seconds, then.”

 

“You will?”

 

Byleth’s head nodded in turn. “If you want thirds, or fourths, I’ll eat those too.”

 

“Byleth don’t encourage her,” Marianne tried to reprimand him, even with the laugh that threatened to break through.

 

“You have to promise, then!” With newfound vigor, Lily held her pinky up. “Will you?”

 

Hooking his finger around hers, he simply nodded once more.

* * *

“Oh… I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Three servings were enough to do the child in as she sank into her seat, looking over at her supposed father, who continued to fork food into his mouth with ease. “... You don’t look full yet.”

 

“Not yet, but almost,” Byleth answered, as he polished off his third plate.

 

“Then you can still have one more!”

 

“I could, but it doesn’t feel right if I’m eating it on my own.”

 

Lilith looked almost distraught, like it was her fault that someone else couldn’t eat another portion. Her brow quaked as guilt started to mount on her bones…

 

“I’ll… I’ll have seconds, Lily,” Marianne interjected. “That way, your father can be full.” Lily looked over at her mother, swallowing the lump in her throat and watched in disbelief as her mother, usually a scarce diner, lifted a few pieces of roasted aubergine from the casserole dish and onto her plate.

 

“Thank you, Marianne,” Byleth said, as he started to fill his plate again. “And thank you for looking out for me, Lily. You’re a wonderful host.”

 

Lilith gazed up at him and simply nodded with an affirmative grunt, leaning forward to watch him eat his fourth serving, with Marianne holding back a laugh at the sight.

* * *

Despite her absence in the previous months, the estate staff kept her suite in pristine condition, with the linens of the massive bed spotless, wooden surfaces polished and smooth, and nary a speck of dirt on the floor. Donning a sleeping gown, Marianne was already settled for the night with the covers pulled up over her waist as she watched Byleth take a seat at the edge of the bed.

 

“I never thought I’d see you like this,” she said, leaning towards him as he craned his head back. “I will admit that it’s an odd sight.”

 

Byleth cracked a smile as he started undoing his armor and some of the outer garment layers on his person. “You’ve seen me in bed, Marianne, it’s not that odd.”

 

Marianne couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I meant here, in the estate… For a long time, I never thought I’d see you again, so it never occurred to me that you could ever be here.”

 

Before Byleth could open his mouth to answer, a knock came at the door, followed by it being cracked open as Lilith barged in, almost dragging the storybook with her while a maid hesitated on walking in before remaining outside.

 

“Lily? Why are you up?”

 

“She couldn’t sleep, Lady Marianne,” the maid—Margot—answered, at least pushing her face in between the door and the frame to be visible. “She insisted she come here.”

 

“Oh.” Surprise crossed Marianne’s face as she looked at her daughter then back to the maid. “Thank you, Margot.”

 

“Good night, Lady Marianne, and for you as well… S-sir Byleth.” Without pause, she closed the door.

 

The mercenary tilted his head. “Sir Byleth?”

 

Marianne let a sigh escape her nose. “The staff insisted you have a title, if temporary… It’s for their convenience, in all honesty. Your name isn’t a common one.”

 

“I suppose that’s that.” He looked at the child still standing by him, almost hiding behind the storybook as she had earlier that day. “What can we do for you, Lily?”

 

“Can you… Can you read me a story, papa?” she asked, lowering the book to reveal her mouth.

 

“Papa?”

 

“Yeah. Mama said you’re my papa, and mama likes you… And you said you look like your mama, and I look like mama… And you eat a lot, like me, so… Can I call you papa?”

 

Byleth reached down, gently taking the storybook before lifting her onto the bed. “You can. But first, papa wants to read you a story. Which one?”

 

“Mm… Any of them!”

 

“Well, I don’t know any of them.”

 

“That’s alright, we can read them together!”

 

Byleth smiled as he rested his back into the pillows and patted the space between him and Marianne, causing Lilith to look on, a confused expression across her face. “All three of us can read them together. Is that okay?” Marianne asked, giving a soft smile.

 

Beaming a grin, Lily scooted herself until she was in the middle as Byleth and Marianne eased in closer, flipping to the first illustration-filled page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between now and the last chapter. In between the holidays plus a massive imaginary block, I’ve been struggling to write. It was pointed out that the anthropology style of this fic meant Lilith’s introduction was abrupt, so this serves as a sort-of prequel to that chapter. This was also an experiment for running two plotlines back-to-back in the same chapter (i.e. you could probably split it into two separate chapters with some tweaks no problem), which I want to explore in a future “prologue” chapter. It's certainly not my finest work, but writing like this is a journey.
> 
> I actually finished a bulk of this at the end of January, but it wasn’t until Cindered Shadows dropped that I felt motivated to finish this. Btw, bless Sitri, and I hope she and Jeralt know peace.
> 
> This is being posted on Valentine’s Day, and while this isn’t strictly a romantic chapter, I just wanted some moments where it’s just them.

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally written 2019-06-19] Once again, it’s me writing stuff for a game that isn’t out yet. There are a world of concepts I want to write about Marianne, from headcanons to things that just aren’t canon—like pre-timeskip romance! That’s why this is under “Fun-canon”!
> 
> Apologies if you’re looking forward to more from “Can’t Buy Me Love” because this is my new fixation, but I can at least assure you that things I’ve interest in currently will still be given as much love and attention. It’s just not fun writing things out for the sake of putting something out; I believe passion gets the best results.
> 
> Still, I hope you do stick around for this, I’ve got plenty of ideas in the pipeline!


End file.
